Weaver of Sunshine
by Koukoi1412
Summary: The Empress of Kou sits atop her regal throne, the imperial crown weighing heavily on her small frame, but all the glittering jewels pale in comparison to a crown of meadow flowers and the fragrance of peaches in the warm sun.
1. Radiance

Kougyoku, as a child, is no stranger to solitude.

Her first memory is of a dark room with a tiny window, a smashed vase, crushed flowers, and tears streaming down her cheeks. Maids rush in at the sound and make quick work of the mess.

Roses are scary things, Kougyoku decides. There's a trickle of red on her shin and the shimmering things all over the floor are stabbing her palm. And those words come rushing back, that flighty, forgettable phrase overheard from three court dancers a long time ago.

 _Wound marks can last forever._

One of the maids drops her broom and attempts to pacify her."Hush, hush, don't cry. Where does it hurt?"

The tears sting, and her chest is heavy, but the sharp pain blooming in her knee feels worse."Here," Kougyoku says, pointing to where porcelain has left its imprint below her thigh.

Practiced fingers whisk out a strip of cloth and bandage the bruise. "You poor little thing. It's okay. It's okay. The pain will go away."

Soothing words. A kind smile. But the pain doesn't stop. Kougyoku seeks the comfort of a mother's embrace. This woman is not her mother. This woman does not hug her.

"Mommy?"

The maid sighs and pats her shoulder. "Shush, the others will hear. You father will not be pleased." The forced smile cracks, giving way to worried glances towards the door.

"Get that whiny brat to shut up before the master notices!" the other snaps. "I swear the next time she tries to climb out the window I'll chain her to the bedpost!"

"You can't blame her. She's lonely. The little girl has no friends, her mother just passed away, and none of her brothers or sisters care to play with her."

The conversation of whispers comes to an end. Kougyoku finds herself alone once more, gazing out the window in silence until darkness steals in and swallows her up.

* * *

It takes years for her to understand the pitying stares. The careless taunts. The never-ending, never-ending, _never-ending_ glares. She is a concubine's daughter, a disgrace. Fate has condemned her to a life of solitary shame, and nothing will ever change that.

On her seventh birthday, she wishes to have wings and fly far away. On her eighth birthday, she wishes to disappear like the mist.

* * *

Kougyoku is almost nine years old when she moves to the palace, up those great marble steps and past ornate doorways. It's enormous, with hallways that stretch on forever and more people than she has ever seen in her life. Her first instinct is to fling herself into a dark room and make a safe haven out of the emptiness. But before she can slip away, a thick raven braid catches her attention. It belongs to a pale-skinned boy in flowing robes, with a scowl on his otherwise aloof features and a pair of...red eyes? He looks rather scary…until she notices the men surrounding him. They're all clad in black and their faces are completely covered except for the eyeholes. One of them notices her and the weight of his glare makes her shudder. In that moment, curiosity makes way for a feeling far more intense.

 _Terror. Bone-shaking terror._ A sea of black flies out, shooting up the walls, the ceiling, engulfing everything. Cold, hollow noise grabs her ears and she can't breathe, she can't speak, she can't see. She can't feel her limbs, and she can't escape — she can't even _move —_

 _It's the end. It's the end. I'm going to die! Please, someone help...me..._

The moment passes, and the man averts his menacing gaze. The strangling voices fade and the burning in her throat is gone. For now, the darkness has chosen to spare her.

Unsure of what else to do, she bows low as the men walk away, robes billowing in nonexistent drafts. She's so utterly relieved to be able to breathe again that she misses how the mysterious boy gives her one last puzzled glance before turning the corner.

* * *

It's barely a week afterward that another stranger barges into her life. His name is Ka Koubun, and his stated mission is to help her make something out of herself.

"Don't you want to become someone great? Do you not wish to become someone worthy of your title?"

"Someone great?" The stranger's mouth is like a spewing volcano, and she doesn't understand half of what he's saying. How could a lowborn like her amount to anything?

"You are an imperial princess! But no one will recognize you if you act like this. What you need is more effort!"

"Effort?"

"Why, indeed! In order to attain a higher position, you must work your way up. I, Ka Koubun, shall lend my assistance in your quest. With my help you will reach heights beyond your imagination! Soon, very soon, all will bow before the might of the future chief minister, the great _Ka Koubun_! You will be the perfect pawn — ah no, that went wrong — I mean, the perfect _princess_. Take my hand, Your Highness! Together, nothing is beyond our reach!"

Should she trust this person? He seems a little...frightening, somehow. But no one ever noticed her before. No one said she had a chance. And no one...was this talkative.

 _At least I won't be so lonely._

Hesitantly, she reaches out a shaky hand to grasp his. Her new attendant's skin is rough and calloused, but it's warm. In that very moment, Kougyoku ceases to be the timid girl who hides under tables and shies away from human contact. Finally, someone grips her tight and drags her away from a lifetime of unending night.

* * *

The boy with a thick braid, she later finds out, is a powerful being called a magi.

"What's a magi, Ka Koubun? I remember father would sometimes invite magicians to predict our family fortunes. One of them read my palm and said my future would be tied to the sea and filled with many tears. I don't really understand what he meant back then, but is that boy like those people?" Kougyoku asks one afternoon during a lull in her daily etiquette lessons.

Ka Koubun clears his throat and delves into a lengthy discussion about the nature of magic and the role of magi in the world.

"In fact, your brother Prince Kouen is a dungeon conqueror!" he exclaims, as if it were tantamount to owning the earth.

"Really? Kouen-oniisama is truly amazing!" She wonders if she could do it too. She isn't scared of the dark like her sisters are, but is that enough? She is too weak, too easily frightened by strangers, too prone to running away and staying out of sight. Could she ever have the strength it takes to step into such a fearsome place?

"Ne, Ka Koubun, do you think I could capture a dungeon if I tried really hard?"

"Wh-what? Capture a dungeon? Absolutely preposterous! Capturing a dungeon is a feat! Hundreds of strong and capable men have tried in the past, but very few made it back alive!"

"I guess I'm no match for them, after all." Her face falls and she can't quell the feeling of worthlessness that bubbles up inside.

"Of course not," Ka Koubun quickly amends, as though sensing the change in mood, "I'm not saying you're weak. You just need...uh...training! Yes, training in the art of swordsmanship. Fortunately, I, Ka Koubun, am quite skilled at swordplay, for I was taught by my late father who was no less than a general of the army."

"Eh? I thought you said your father was a merchant who sold elephants?"

"No, he was a...a farmer...who worked as a merchant...after he retired from military work ...because the crew ship he was on was attacked by pirates...but he defeated them all single-handedly, took their loot, and invested in the ivory trade!"

She's at least ten different versions of that story by now; his father was a lion-tamer, a snake-charmer, governor, priest, jeweler, and just about any profession under the sun. She doubts he did _any_ of those things, but he must have been a wonderful person for Ka Koubun to talk about him that much. If only she had more stories to tell about her own father.

"Great men like him are never forgotten."

Something in those words, something in his voice, something great and fragile entrances her. It swirls around within her reach and she has only to grasp it now, right now, or this rare chance at _something_ will slip back into the dark where she can never find it. She truly wants to catch this wisp of a thing, but the net of her fingers is so small, and the only thing bigger than her hands is her tiny voice.

"C-could you teach me?" There, her voice is fighting, she can't fight yet, but her voice can start. "I want to learn how to fight! Just like Hakuei-neesan! Please, Ka Koubun?"

Her guardian sends her an amused look. "Hmm...perhaps I can show you the basics, but only when you're older and have finished your other lessons. Speaking of which, let us return to rule number 47: When holding a spoon, never let —"

The rest of the session proceeds as usual, yet Ka Koubun's words have ignited a spark in the young princess' heart.

 _I wonder what it's like...to be a warrior of the Kou Empire. Maybe others won't look down on me so much. And maybe I can finally be useful to everybody!_

* * *

It's a cool summer afternoon when she has her first conversation with the young magi. One minute she's about to bite into a juicy peach and the next thing she knows, it's flying out of her grasp.

"It's flying! My peach is actually flying!" She watches in wide-eyed shock as it floats in a circle around her head then straight across the room and into the hands of a laughing boy. Only it's not just any boy. It's the oracle of the Kou Empire. Hair dark as braided midnight, eyes the color of blood, and an aura that suffocates.

Fear grips her in its clutches.

"Ju-Judar-san?" she ventures, forgetting to run away instead. "You're the magi of Kou, right?"

His only response is to stare at her, hard and cold. That piercing red still unnerves her, but she fights the chill running down her spine.

At last he relents and graces her with a smirk. "Of course. I am the _great magi_ Judar. And you?" His tone is pure winter's chill. But somewhere she detects an undercurrent of deep loneliness.

 _This person, is it possible, that he's just like me?_

This is the first time she's ever spoken with a child her age though, and sheer nervousness robs her of her voice.

Noticing her hesitation, the boy begins to frown. "Huh? What's wrong with you?" He stares at her, curiosity in full force. "Oh I get it. You're in amazed to be in the presence of such an awesome magician that you've forgotten how to speak. Why, even a baby could do better than you!"

"I'm the—" _The what? The lowborn princess? The commoner's daughter? An untouchable?_

"What? Hurry up and get on with it already!"

"I-I'm the ei-eighth princess of the Kou empire, Kougyoku," she chokes out. "It's a pleasure to meet you — hey!" She bites down an unladylike squeak. Magi or not, that boy bit into her peach!

"That's my—" she catches herself, suddenly afraid to continue. _Oh no! Father will be so angry! This is the great magi, and I am just...just..._

"Your peach? Ha! I ate it first, so it's mine, slowpoke! You should have seen your face earlier when you thought the peach was flying! That mouth of yours was open so wide you looked even uglier than an old hag!" _Here we go again. More insults. More cruel laughter. But it's a little different. It's like his expression is a little softer than before._

"Hey, Old Hag!"

"I'm n-not an old hag!"

"Yes you are, 'cause I say so! Now, if you really want your peach back, climb one of those trees in the orchard and help yourself to one."

"But I can't climb!"

"That's your problem!"

"Then...then...I'll do it if you teach me!"

"What? Why should _I_ do that?"

"Because, if I learn how to climb, then I can get you more peaches!"

Turns out, the insufferable magi doesn't know how to climb either. Several frustrating attempts, words of encouragement on her part, nasty retorts from him, and a couple of bruises later, he flies up, attacks a branch with clusters of fruit and takes care of their meal.

"Ne, can I call you Judar-chan?" Kougyoku asks while munching happily on her second peach.

"Whatever you want, Old Hag."

He scowls and she giggles and the lonely magi and the lonely princess become something better than strangers that day.

True to his word, Ka Koubun spares no effort to teach Kougyoku the ways of the court. The lessons are exhausting, but her new-found determination pushes her forward. She trades her dolls for historical accounts, and devours volumes on poetry, etiquette, and courtly functions. She can't give up now.

Free time is scarce, and she spends it in the garden talking to flowers, catching grasshoppers, feeding goldfish, chasing dragonflies, with the occasional visit from Judar and his bag of pranks. And even if it means suffering his constant teasing or crude remarks, though she huffs and she puffs when he finds yet another way to rile her up, life is good. At the very least, she no longer desires to blend in with the curtains or vanish into thin air.

* * *

"Hey, Old Hag!"

A scream echoes down the corridor, and the attendants shake their heads. The commotion is obviously the result of the esteemed magi being his rash and obnoxious self.

Kougyoku's heart races in her chest, her fingers slip on the _guzheng_. Dear Judar-chan must really enjoy popping out of nowhere just to give her the fright of her life.

"Judar-chan! You scared me!" She wants to strangle him. Really.

"My, my, what do we have here? The Old Hag thinks she can play music! So it's you who's behind that dreadful noise! Want the whole palace to go deaf, huh? I bet the former emperor is cringing in his grave right now! Don't be surprised if his ghost comes to haunt you tonight!"

"Hey! Stop being so rude! I'm not that bad...am I?" A tear trembles at eyelid's edge. _I worked so hard practicing this piece. My fingers are sore and I'll surely have a stiff neck tomorrow, yet I still can't get it. Is there even anything I can do right?_

She had tried her hardest to impress him, and he dismissed her efforts as a nuisance. Perhaps it would be better to give up after all.

Judar shrugs. "Just forget it, okay? Besides I learned a new trick that I've been dying to show you all morning."

"Eh, another one?" She's torn whether to feel wary or enthusiastic. In her experience, most demonstrations of his magic powers end up with her in tears or cowering behind her sleeves. "I do hope it's not as dreadful as shooting up ten feet in the air. Please, spare me a heart attack."

"Nope, this time it's even better than flying! Allow me to present...another Kougyoku!" With a flick of his wand, a burst of light shoots into a nearby fountain.

"What happened? And what do you mean by another-" Her eyes nearly double in size because unbelievably, hovering inches above the fountain is an exact replica of herself, hairpin and all. The fake Kougyoku even mirrors her very movements.

"Th-that's me! How did you — how is it possible—"

Before she gets thoroughly creeped out, Judar stretches out his wand once more and the figure reverts into a blob of water trickling down into the fountain.

"See! Quite a neat trick, isn't it? Definitely much better than fooling around with that silly harp thing."

She can't help but nod in agreement as her companion rants on and on about how wonderful his powers are. Boast piles upon boast, until she wonders if he ever realizes how deep his insecurities go.

"'Tis merely one of the million perks of being a magi. Want to know another one?"

Such an attention whore. But she can't imagine him any other way.

* * *

The path to becoming a real princess is more difficult than she first thought. The ministers ignore her. The wagging tongues don't stop. Everywhere, every time, everything, she's compared to her sisters. There's no end to this daily ordeal of her heart ripping apart and her rushing to stitch back the missing seams. It's not enough, never is. The wasps poke her eyes day after day, and the strain bears down till she's just baby steps away from broken.

It is in this state that Judar finds her. He has just returned with Kouen, who is in high spirits from conquering his third dungeon.

"Crying sucks. It makes you even uglier than you already are, Old Hag," he says, profoundly crass in ways she never thought she needed. "What did those fools say this time? Want me to kill them off for you?"

The dam breaks, raw emotions spill out. "Judar-chan, they — they compared me to Hakuei! They didn't notice…I was hiding…they…called me weak and useless! I'll never be strong like her! I'll never be elegant like her! I'll never be perfect! After all this time nothing has changed! Everyone sees me as trash — even father!"

He frowns. "Still letting those scum dictate your life? Don't listen to those lies. You're strong, Kougyoku!"

Her sobbing grinds to a halt. With each gentle pat on her shoulder, her trembling body stills. She raises her head and furiously wipes away tears. _Judar-chan thinks I'm…strong?_

"You can be a warrior," he continues, and embers of a half-forgotten dream flare to life.

"You're strong," he repeats, and Kougyoku knows those words will be etched into her memory for the rest of her life. "Those who think otherwise are the weak ones." His hand is outstretched, and she reaches forward tentatively. It's the first time, the first time she ever dares touch him. His fingers are softer than Ka Koubun's, slightly sticky with peach juice. Why isn't she surprised?

Judar is ice and darkness. He's quicksand, cruel and dangerous, the cause of ninety percent of the scrapes she gets into. Yet right now he's here for her and that is enough.

* * *

Years later, the seed that was planted bears fruit. She bears the title Eighth Princess Ren Kougyoku with pride. Any fear or hesitation, any trace of that scared little girl are safely tucked behind flowing sleeves, away from prying eyes. She may never become the pride of the court, however, she's no longer its disgrace.

Judar is growing up too. Some days his eyes are soulless; other times his voice seems to belong to someone else. He's a pendulum, swinging, laughing, so huge and so wild, seeking out the brightest stars that he came from, somewhere she can't reach, and the thought scares her. Maybe he's losing it. Maybe she is. Maybe they were both already lost to begin with.

* * *

In the oscillating leap of time, there are memories that stand out among the bleary haze of the rest.

"Who is that long-haired man the chancellor is speaking with?" she inquires the day a great caravan is heralded at the palace gates.

"No less than the king of Sindria, Sinbad, ruler of the seven seas," replies Ka Koubun, whose curiosity is piqued by the strangers behind the gates.

"Is he really that amazing?"

"Considering he was the one to establish his country and lead it to prosperity, my answer would be yes."

Kougyoku knowledge of foreign monarchs is rudimentary at most , but if that man can impress Ka Koubun, then he must be a great person worthy of everyone's respect. This occupies her mind until noon, when a voice startles her during one of her art lessons.

"You must be the lovely Kougyoku-hime."

It's the voice of a leader. The voice of a _warrior_. She hasn't even seen his face up close; already sheer charisma draws her in.

"You're King Sinbad!" she gushes.

The king smiles, sending her knees knocking into each other. There is only so much you can conceal behind your sleeves, and Kougyoku hopes the warmth blooming in her cheeks is one of them.

Judar, who has spent the last half hour splattering her paint, scoffs from his corner, but he can't hide the twisted excitement on his face.

The next day, he sets off with Hakuei to capture a dungeon. She comes back a general, much stronger than before. In the younger princess' eyes, Hakuei has just outdistanced her by leagues of azure horizon, leaving her a foot or two deeper underground.

She's growing tired of fighting destiny. She will never, never be as good as her sisters or her brothers or her cousins or any royals in the palace. The sharp decline of her enthusiasm alarms Ka Koubun, who now sprinkles her days with frequent reprimands. Meanwhile, she devotes her waking hours to thinking. No, not daydreaming — _thinking_. And fencing. Fighting and not-not-not-not falling in love. These days, she frequents the royal gardens, more often than not with a dreamy sigh on her face. If the palace servants ever thought her queer, their suspicions increase tenfold.

* * *

One random morning just after the first sighting of dawn, a magi magicks away her window and sails into the room.

"Is there something you need, Judar-chan?" she asks, quite irritated. She's halfway finished applying make-up and wet hair is all over the place.

He's grinning like an idiot. She doesn't know whether to take that as a good sign.

"Hey Old Hag! Wanna capture a dungeon with me?"

 _Either this is an extremely rare coincidence, or the universe is playing a cruel joke on me,_ Kougyoku tells herself, sweating and gasping for breath after the ordeal. Apparently, the dungeon belongs to Vinea, maiden of sorrow and isolation. Judar-chan probably suggested it to humor her. Or maybe he was simply very, very wise.

In the aftermath, said magi floats down on his carpet, draping the white cloth round his neck in one graceful sweep. He stalks forward and pats her head in an affectionate gesture. "Told ya you could do it, Old Hag!"

"Ah, Judar-chan! You're ruining my hair!" Kougyoku's embarrassed and her fingers still tingle, but the smirk on his face appears genuine, devoid of mockery or malice.

Back at the palace, she's greeted by Kouha's signature blood-curling grin. "Now you're a dungeon conqueror, too," he beams proudly. There's that ever-present hint of insanity in his tiger shark gaze. She thanks him nevertheless.

It's past midnight and Kougyoku is wide awake with excitement. Thanks to Judar's and Ka Koubun's help, she's one step closer to her dream. No longer will she known as the whore's daughter. She's the eighth princess, the fourth dungeon raider of the royal family. She can't wait to meet father; he'll surely see her in a new light from now on. Maybe even her stepmother the queen will be pleased. Giddy with excitement, she clutches her hairpin within the folds of her dress and hangs on with all her might.

* * *

In retrospect, she has always been a bit too naive.

* * *

A year later, she's in the middle of a little reverie that does NOT involve a certain island nation's purple-haired king, when a servant calls her inside. Her father has summoned her to the throne room for unknown reasons.

It comes as a complete surprise. She can count with the fingers of one hand the number of times he acknowledged her existence, often as an afterthought, and she's not in a hurry to live through one more.

The hallway towards the throne room had never felt this long. Her heart's racing a mile a minute with every step. _Inhale, exhale, you can do this. You're strong. What is a common throne room compared to a **dungeon?**_

The door opens. Mustering all her courage, she fills her lungs to the brim and steps inside. She strides forward with measured steps, bearing herself like a queen.

"I have come, Your Highness."

At her side is Ka Koubun, who is obviously satisfied with the result of his training. Her voice emanates confidence suited for her regal status. She looks the emperor square in the eye without flinching. Even the ever stoic crown prince Kouen looks impressed.

Emperor Koutoku rises from his throne. "My child, you have proven your worth by capturing a dungeon. I applaud your bravery."

 _Is this a dream? Please, don't let it be a dream! For the first time, Father actually praised me!_

Chiding herself for the momentary loss of composure, she holds her breath as the emperor utters his next words.

"Perhaps you wonder why I summoned you here."

His expression shifts. Narrowed eyes unmask the true ruthlessness of his heart. It takes all of Kougyoku's willpower not to cower in the heat of his stare. In a blink, the image of Koutoku as a proud father dissipates, and Koutoku the emperor emerges in its place. Cruel, unforgiving, bending to the will of none. To enemies, horrible. To allies, powerful. To his daughter, a stranger.

"I have a task for you to accomplish. Will you do it?" His tone is calm, yet Kougyoku feels the invisible dagger twisting at her throat. When she replies, it's not out of respect, or an eagerness to please, but fear.

"Anything you require, Your Majesty."

"Very well. Have you heard of the kingdom of Balbadd?"

"Yes, father. It is a flourishing country by the sea, a center for trade visited by merchants from all nations," she replies without skipping a beat.

"Indeed. It is my wish to form a treaty with Balbadd. As is the custom, in order to facilitate such negotiations, a marriage into the royal family must take place. And the best candidate is none other than you."

 _No, no, never!_

 _Please._

Her world comes to a standstill. If only she could faint right here, send her soul to oblivion. The palace may not be ideal, but it's her home. She hasn't even achieved her dream of serving in the army. How could she be ready for a political marriage?

"It is final!" he barks out, too consumed by ambition to notice how his daughter's heart breaks with every syllable. "A month from now, you shall set sail for Balbadd to marry King Ahbmad Saluja."


	2. Flare

How long does it take for the universe to shatter? How much longer to right itself? In the space of a month, the only illusion of home she has ever known grabs her wrists and flings her out its gates to navigate the tides of an alien world. It's a marriage, yes, and she should be so very happy to be shipped away to a foreign land like a crate of smelly tuna.

Ka Koubun takes charge of the preparations. Droves of attendants swiftly pack away her finest robes, her best perfumes. When her room has been stripped to the bare essentials, he raids the national archives for additional lessons for his charge.

She comes in from sparring practice and afternoon tea with Kouha and finds a mountain of scrolls dumped on her bed.

"What on Earth is all this for?!"

"As you may have heard, the country of Balbadd has undergone significant changes in the past half-decade. This calls for a last minute review on international diplomacy," he quickly explains.

 _No, no, no._ _Enough. Please._

"Why don't you rest instead, Ka Koubun? You've been very busy these past days." It's pointless. Discarded finery like her will never be of any use anyway.

A dark shadow passes her doorway, interrupting her thoughts.

"Ah, Judar-chan—"

He gives her a cold glare. "Later, Old Hag. I'm busy." He stalks away, peach in hand, some nervous habit he's been prone to as of late. Tomorrow he departs with her on some classified business for Kou. And then it will be the last she'll ever see of him for a long time.

A cold gust whips around in his wake, and she grips her elbows tight, bracing herself against the chill of leaves in free fall. The wind is fierce and hollow, like glaciers melting, like birds falling off their nest.

Like the snapping of guzheng strings.

* * *

"Princess, wake up! Today we set sail for Balbadd!"

Ka Koubun's voice is a buzzing in her ears, loud and noisy enough to cut short the aimless morphing of semi-nightmares. Kougyoku grabs her pillow, clamps it over her head, and digs under the sheets. This is her last morning in her bed, and she isn't ready to part with it _. Just a few more minutes...I don't want to leave yet ..._

Her attendant responds by tapping his foot on the mahogany floor, unfazed by her petulant groans.

"You don't want to be late for your own wedding," is all the warning she gets before handmaidens drag her into a freezing bath. They all but drown her in scented oils and scrub until the shade of her skin rivals the rose petals in the tub.

The next hour consists of applying layer upon layer of make-up onto her face. When it's over, she feels like a withered corncob grated raw and plunged into a hundred different vats of paint.

Judar saunters in with a frown. "You missed a spot, Old Hag."

"Huh? Where?" Kougyoku makes a rush for the mirror. Nothing seems out of place.

"Right here." He tugs one of her hairloops loose, earning her another half hour of sitting stiffly as her frustrated attendants redo her hair.

Just as the last pin is carefully slid into place, a palace servant arrives to usher them into the dining hall for breakfast.

The farewell meal is nothing short of a feast, but nervousness nests in Kougyoku's belly, leaving no room for more than a few morsels. Her appetite squished thin, she fiddles with her food until Koumei startles her with a reprimanding cough, causing her to drop her chopsticks.

The rest of the meal proceeds in uncharacteristic silence. Kouha's attempts at small talk are ignored. Kourin's on a honeymoon, Hakuei is all smiles but looks worried over something. Kouen is stoic as ever, Koumei is busy swatting away Judar's greedy fingers from his plate, and Hakuryuu has more on his mind than the fate of his youngest stepsister.

 _What a horrible start to a horrible day_ , Kougyoku thinks as she chokes down the the last scraps of beef stew. It's occasions like this that played tug of war with her emotions all month. _If I go, if I stay — between the desert and the palace, which is the less miserable place?_

* * *

"I expect negotiations to proceed smoothly," are her father's parting words before she sets foot on the carriage that will take her to the harbor.

She knows enough to get the underlying message: _Don't mess up._ All he sees is another piece falling into place, another nation to take over. For a brief second she pities the country she'll be exiled to.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You are dismissed." _Good riddance_.

He doesn't bother to send her off, delegating Kouen and Koumei in his stead. Kouha, Hakuryuu, and Hakuei tag along and make small talk about the war in such-and-such, or the territory of so-and-so. Names she can't place and countries she couldn't care less about, an unspoken reminder that she will never be one of them, or like them, or with them. Because the last-born princess is worth a treaty and nothing more.

All too soon, the port looms into view. Time for her last goodbyes.

"Make Kou proud," Kouen says. Koumei nods, Hakuryuu bows, Hakuei gives her a wave.

Kouha pulls her into a hug. She grips him tight, fighting back tears. Of all her siblings, she'll miss him the most. Those pink braids. That eccentric personality to match her own. The words of comfort when her sisters would bully her. He's also the only one who shares the stigma of a less than ideal mother.

"Thanks, everyone, for escorting me. I shall take my leave now." With one last bow, she marches forward, head held high as her unsteady footsteps traverse the plank bridging ship and shore.

 _Don't look back,_ she tells herself.

She does anyway. The wind speeds up and the sails unfurl and she watches the empire shrink into a tiny speck and vanish into the fog over the ocean.

* * *

The royal cruise is enormous. Even with all those layers of clothes on, she and her shadow barely take up space. Was she so much trouble back in the palace that her father had to kick her out?

She peers down into the darkening waters. A huge wave rocks the ship, forcing her to cling to the railing for support.

"Seas are somewhat rough, Your Highness. But don't worry. We won't be facing a real storm for weeks," the first mate reassures her.

She fingers her hairpin, seized by a sudden impulse. She could fling herself overboard, use Vinea to launch a wave to take her home. Or she could gather rukh from the sea to sustain her magoi and fly all the way back.

But. Such thoughts do not become a princess. Whatever bravery she ever had, it must have faded along with the Kou shoreline.

* * *

Her worries haunt her in dreams. Sleep eludes her certain evenings. One day she finds herself in the Kou palace sparring with her brother Kouha. Lightning surges through her veins as they cross blades. It's raw, terrifying power, and it thrills her. He strikes, she counters, he misses, she thrusts — in the heat of battle, he gets impaled by Vinea's blade. He collapses into a sea of scarlet, gasping until the light in his eyes flickers out, and his bloodstained face is the last thing she sees before Ka Koubun shakes her awake.

"Princess, you were having a nightmare," he says, candle in hand, hair in disarray. Two maids accompany him, blinking groggy eyes.

"Did I scream too loud?"

He merely nods and orders one of the attendants to fetch chamomile tea for the princess. She empties her cup in one gulp, so fast that it burns rather than soothes her parched throat. Relieved, Ka Koubun stumbles back to his room.

At the sound of his deep snores, Kougyoku sneaks up the deck and commences solo stargazing, knowing she won't sleep a wink until dawn. The image of her brother's corpse is too vividly etched in her mind.

 _Kouha onii-sama... are you alright?_

Lazy footfalls alert her to another's presence. So she's not the only one restless tonight. Judar-chan is awake, too. She makes her way to him and plops down to his right. She spends a minute tidying her skirts, tugging the fabric a triple dozen ways in hopes of getting rid of each imagined wrinkle. Not like it matters, actually. Judar is Judar, and Judar never cared for these kinds of trivialities. Her legs shift again and he looks away, eyes focused on something she can't see.

She wants to talk to him, but she kind of doesn't. She wants something more than this overwhelming, irritating, dreadful _quiet_.

"The stars are quite beautiful, don't you think so?"

A click of his tongue is the only response she gets.

"Can't sleep either?"

He grunts.

"Hey, that's the Northern Crown!"

He whips his head towards where she's pointing. "The what?"

Finally, a decent response.

"It's my favorite constellation. According to myth, there was once a princess who helped a hero navigate a labyrinth to slay a monster. They fell in love, but he abandoned her eventually. A god took pity on her and married her. When she died, he took the crown he had given her and tossed it among the stars."

"That's it? What a boring story. The monster should have crushed them to pieces and eaten them alive — then it would have been interesting."

She swallows hard. Yes, that's Judar-chan, alright. Nothing interests him that doesn't involve copious amounts of blood and gore.

"Why'd you like that stupid tale, anyway?"

"The crown...it's like a symbol of forever, that no matter what, even in death, their promise remains."

He stares at her, really stares, in that unnerving, unrelenting sort of way that turns her insides into packed snow and drives icicles into her lungs. But then this expression changes into something that might resemble a grin, albeit too dark and weighted to be one. "Want a crown of stars, Old Hag?"

"Don't be silly! There's no way anyone could produce such a thing! Stars are there to remind us that some things are beyond our reach."

The smirk on his face tells her he'll find a way to reach them someday. He's a magi, after all. Nothing's impossible.

 _Nothing_.

"Judar-chan, uh..."

"What? Spit it out!"

 _Will you miss me_? _No, you won't. Of course you won't._

This is Judar, and some questions must remain unsaid. So she settles for something simpler, safer, something that won't break them both.

"Uh, what is Balbadd like?"

He snorts. "It's in the desert, so there's got to be lots of sand. For goodness sake, use your head, Old Hag." She's probably reading into it way more than she should, but it sounds as if...as if there's something akin to sadness in his voice. Maybe it's his way of saying goodbye.

Dead silence follows, broken only by the crashing of the ocean.

"Kougyoku," he says, slowly, for the words seem foreign on his tongue. "If that husband of yours gives you trouble, beat him up. I'll expect nothing less."

It's the second time he's called her by name. The first instance, he'd found her weeping by a heap of headless dolls torn apart in a fit of rage. That was back when she was just a girl hiding behind Kouha's sleeves.

Her thoughts are interrupted by a yawn from her companion. "Enough with this silly conversation. I'm sleepy. See ya in the morning!" Away he goes in search of a comfortable bed, leaving Kougyoku to mull over his words.

She lifts her eyes to scan the horizon. Dozens of constellations stretch from one end to another, each with its own story, its own course, its own shine. Her future's quite the opposite, uncertain as the sea's shifting waves and murky depths. But for now, it's okay.

The corners of her mouth curve into a smile.

 _Thank you._

* * *

A couple of days pass before they sight land. Judar whisks out his flying carpet and charges ahead. Ka Koubun escorts her down as they embark on the sandy coast.

So this is Balbadd. Nothing but desert sand...merchant caravans...peasants...camels...cacti of all shapes and sizes...an oasis or two...and...even more _sand._ The port is lined with fishing boats, each one brimming with the sea's bounty. The magicians in her entourage prepare a flying carpet to carry them to Balbadd City. It's a long morning of air travel ahead with only one stopover for lunch.

Sightseeing is a disappointment. Endless sand dunes take the place of mountains and not a single forest is in sight. Most houses are simple four-walled structures lacking the sophistication of Kou architecture. There's that cluster of domed buildings that might have been magnificent once, but have long fallen prey to erosion. Overall, Balbadd gives the impression of an ancient ruin halfway consumed by the very desert it stands on.

To kill boredom, Kougyoku counts the merchant caravans they pass by. She makes it to her 28th camel before losing track completely and falling asleep.

* * *

She awakens to the chaos of the market. There's nothing like the awful screeching of worn down rickshaws to disturb your afternoon nap. The carpet flies lower, bringing the bustle in the streets into plain view. Merchants everywhere. A fat, mustached man haggles his wares. A scrawny child begging for alms. Foul stench combined with the nauseating heat send her stomach heaving.

"What's wrong, Princess?" She spares him a glance, only to find her attendant's hand pinching his nose.

"Ka Koubun, it stinks! I want to throw up!"

"Whaaat? Uh...understood! You lazy wizards! Fly higher! The princess will suffocate to death in this nasty place!" he barks out.

Grumbling, the men release more power, causing the carpet to ascend. But lifting it higher means drawing closer to the sun's scorching rays, and their flimsy fabric canopy is no match for the blazing heat. They're all sweating profusely, but the desert heat's like a furnace vaporizing the beads of moisture on their skin, leaving a sticky itch. Ka Koubun inches closer to the princes and fans her till his arms give out. It's hopeless. She can feel the steam rising from their skin, sapping her strength.

"Ka Koubun...I feel like I'm about to faint..."

That is all it takes for him to explode. "Stop this madness already! Get rid of this useless carpet at once! Someone get a carriage!"

They descend and transfer to more comfortable accommodations. Kougyoku slumps in her seat, exhausted. It hasn't been half a day and already she hates this place.

"Just bear with it a little longer, my Princess. We'll be at the palace before you know it," Ka Koubun assures her.

If only she realized that "a little longer" meant three full hours in the sun.

They arrive at the palace an hour after sundown. Maids immediately escort her to her room and prepare a luxurious bath. She bids goodnight to Ka Koubun before collapsing into bed. _I can't remember feeling this tired before._ With a week to settle in and collect her thoughts before signing that treaty, she closes her eyes and falls into blissful slumber.

* * *

She doesn't meet her betrothed for the course of the week. The tension in her chest resurfaces; she needs something — anything to quell this anxiety before the wedding. Upon Ka Koubun's advice, she decides to pass time learning about this country. Requests for any books in the library about Balbadd culture are quickly carried out.

It's interesting, to say the least. A melting pot of various civilizations, amalgamating into a unique way of life, vastly different from the enforced uniformity of Kou.

She puts down her seventh book and prepares to look into the next pile to her left. But first, a cup of tea.

 _Ah nothing like good old Kou tea to calm your nerves. This country's tea can never compare._

"Himegimi, the servants have finished unpacking. All is set for the upcoming ceremony," Ka Koubun dutifully reports.

"Princess, is something the matter? You've been unusually...quiet these past days. Are you worried that badly?" He surveys the book lying on the table. _The History of the Saluja Dynasty_.

"Ne, Ka Koubun, are you aware that Balbadd has been ruled by generations of the Saluja clan since it was founded centuries ago? Every single ruler is listed here, including their sons and daughters. I was just thinking, father never called me by name. Not even once."

"Princess, it will do no good to dwell on such things." His voice is grave, with only a wisp of sympathy.

"Why not Hakuei, Ka Koubun? Why was _I_ the one condemned to this cursed place?" she snaps, taking a long sip from her cup to calm her turbulent emotions. "She's Kouen onii-sama's favorite, isn't she?" _Cause she's good and brave and a full-blooded royal and everything I'm not. That's why she was spared such a fate._

"I'm envious. I really am. But this is the only thing I can do for my country now. I can't afford to be a disgrace." Resolve wells up anew. She will not be a crybaby for the rest of her life. Whoever this King Ahmad is, whatever misgivings she may have towards this country, she'll face it all as a true warrior should. And maybe fate will smile down on her at last.

* * *

Her first real adventure in this strange land is a skirmish with a blue-haired boy and a blue-skinned giant. She's cruising on carpet on a tour of the city when a shower of human-sized icicles rain down.

Ka Koubun's exasperated sigh confirms her suspicions. Judar has gone to pick a fight. She arrives in time to witness her childhood companion mercilessly crushed by a headless brute. Her gaze sweeps over the fallen magi lying in a heap on the ground. Cold dread grips her heart, worse than meeting Al Thamen, worse than fighting for her life in Vinea's dungeon. Judar-chan...could he be dead?

Flashes of him parade through her mind. Him stealing her peach on their first encounter. Flying with him on her first carpet ride, his thick braid whipping in the wind. Bouts of carefree laughter, singing down hail and frost. His outstretched hand wrapped around hers, acknowledging a strength she would never have discovered on her own. Through the years he's become an indelible part of her existence, and she can't imagine what her life would be without him.

"Ka Koubun! I'll leave Judar-chan to you! You better heal him properly. We can't let him die." Reaching for her gold pin, she screams for Vinea as she faces off with the beast.

 _You monster! You'll pay for this!_

The headless giant pummels through the vortex of water entwined around her blade, steadily vaporizing it with flaming hands. A massive fist comes swinging to her left. She dodges, weaving her water snakes back and forth. If one of those crushing blows hits its target, she'll be pulverized. Calling forth more power, she aims her weapon for her final move. Swirling torrents gush forth and pierce a fatal hole in her opponent's frame.

 _You're finished!_

"Ka Koubun, how is Judar-chan?" _Please, please, say he's alright._

"I've performed emergency care," he replies in monotone. "He's breathing, but we need to transfer him to better facilities for me to heal him properly."

"Then let's hurry."

They prepare to leave, but a flaming blast blocks the path. A boy rises in the air, riding the currents of the night.

"You impudent brat! Get out of my way!" At the least she expects him to be grateful for destroying the monster.

He refuses. The giant she cut down was his friend who only fought to protect him from the one who started the fight, he claims, pointing accusing fingers at Judar. Logic tells her that indeed, Kou's resident magi must have started the fight, but one look at Judar-chan's battered frame sends her flying into a rage. She will never, ever forgive anyone who lays a hand on him.

The battle's not yet over.

"Enshin, Entai, Engi!" Three shadows leap forth at her command. "I'll take care of this kid. You three, get rid of this rubbish at once!" Her mouth contorts into a bitter smile. What irony. In her father's eyes, she's no different from trash herself.

More figures enter the playing field. A shock of gold, a ruby pigtail. Both sides seem evenly matched. Might as well get serious. She descends and begins to coat her body with water when a strong hand halts her efforts halfway.

"And who are _you_?" she spits back.

It's too dark to recognize the stranger's face. He isn't clad in distinguishing robes or ornaments, but that imposing profile outlined by moonlight...that dignified voice...surely it can't be?

"King of Sindria, leader of the Alliance of Seven Seas, Sinbad."

 _That_ Sinbad-sama? From long ago...was it two years? Or three?

She's always been dreaming of purple hair. But in her dreams his face was always a blinding sun. A kind smile. Someone to appreciate. It could have been anyone else and it would make no difference, she realizes.

Now her vision has become reality and he doesn't remember her. Figures. She was younger back then.

Flustered, she beats a hasty retreat back to Balbadd palace. From the safety of the flying carpet, she takes one last look at the gathered crowd, committing to memory the faces of the people she and her men crossed swords with.

The golden-blonde with the dagger sends her a scathing glare. She glares back steadily, holding his gaze until the night snatches him away.

* * *

Two days later, she runs into that same sun-kissed gold. There has been a commotion at the palace courtyard, and she wishes to ascertain the cause.

Tradition holds that it is bad luck for a bride and groom to meet before the actual wedding. She risks it anyway, since whatever's taking place may be detrimental to the very crux of her mission here. What greets her is a throng of soldiers hunched around an empty throne. From the looks of it, there seems to be a rebellion of some sort.

First things first. "I am the eighth princess of the Kou Empire, Ren Kougyoku, King Ahbmad's betrothed. May I know who the king of this country is?"

She surveys the throne room. No one exudes the commanding aura of her brother Kouen, nor the charisma of King Sinbad. Just how pathetic can this country be?

"I am!" a voice squeaks from the floor.

There's a term for this feeling.

 _Revulsion_.

She wills herself not to shriek. _I did not travel all the way to Balbadd for this!_ For a split second she forgets to remind herself there's no turning back. Too much is at stake.

 _Just let me die instead._ If Judar were around, he'd be laughing himself to tears at her predicament.

"Actually, Your Highness, we are not sure who is king at the moment," the banker interjects, his grotesque eyeball rolling in undecipherable patterns in its socket.

The self-proclaimed king curses. She's left staring blankly, puzzled by the sudden turn of events. Waves of tension loop back and forth, squeezing, squeezing, until the air tightens with misplaced hostility.

A confession rings out. The younger brother refuses to ascend the throne. That leaves only one option.

"Will you be king?" Kougyoku asks the third prince.

"No," he replies, scrambling the game yet again. All the pieces have fallen off the table; how shall they continue?

"I will not for I am unworthy," he explains.

Kougyoku is at wit's end. _This man instigated the rebellion; now he refuses to be king!_

"There won't be another king because the monarchy of Balbadd will now become a republic!" He skillfully lays out his plan, declares his undying devotion for his country. She'd be impressed if only his statements weren't half as outrageous.

He's either a genius or a fool. Either way, she's at a disadvantage.

If he's a genius, he'll play her for a fool. If he's a fool, then countering his ridiculous logic will only expose her as an even greater fool.

 _I knew I wasn't cut out for this. If only Kouen onii-sama were here, he'd know what to do._

Determination sparks in his amber eyes. She recognizes those gold flares from a couple of nights back. Same opponent, different battlefield. The fate of two countries hangs in the balance. She will win this duel of words.

It's been ages since her last truly engaging match. Something in her is excited about the outcome. Push forward, one step, two steps. If you fail this, you can never look Father in the eye again. And then, just when you think you've won, he brings out his trump card. Tables are turned, you retreat. One step, two steps. Not good.

He's presently spouting out more nonsense, as if she'll ever buy into that crap. He's messing up with her plans. He's also her only chance of escape.

She watches with gritted teeth as he backs her into a corner. But she's got another trick up her sleeve. "If Kou cannot achieve its goal through amicable negotiations, it will resort to war. Do you wish for needless bloodshed to fall upon your country?"

"What would the Emperor of Kou prefer? To raze this country to the ground, destroying everything of value or to gain a share in the profits of our lucrative trade?"

They're practically butting heads by now. He's fire, a roaring blaze that threatens to devour her whole. But she's the ocean; churn her up and her unleashed fury will engulf the land.

Forget the rules. All decorum and tact go flying out the window.

"You insolent...child!"

She hasn't strangled him yet. That's a feat. Their verbal match goes on; he will not listen to reason, choosing instead to hack away at her defense till there's nothing between them but untamed fury. She's just about ready to draw her blade and settle matters with a sword fight when a familiar voice calls out.

 _King Sinbad's here!_

The ruler of Sindria shows up with members of the Alliance of Seven Seas, declaring Balbadd's membership and subsequent political rights.

The fiery-haired prince is quick to agree. Bested by their combined efforts, Kougyoku concedes upon the condition that Sinbad make a personal visit to Kou. That should take care of any complaints her fa—the _emperor_ may have about the new arrangement.

With a snap of her boots, she exits the scene, towing behind a visibly shocked Ka Koubun.

She's actually relieved to be on her way. _What is with those brothers?_ One's an arrogant fool, the other an infuriating brat. Royalty at its worst, though the younger of the two was actually entertaining. She's almost sad that their little duel is over.

"Princess, are you sure about this?" Ka Koubun's anxious and has every right to be. The Emperor will be furious when he finds out. She lost— Kou lost — and Kou never loses.

Only it doesn't feel that way.

 _Fine. Call it a stalemate. And in a way, you were saved. You should thank that prince._

Never mind. She'll deal with that later. For now...

"Come on, Ka Koubun! We're going home!"


	3. Flicker

"Ka Koubun."

"Yes...Princess?"

"I realized something."

"May I know...what...that...is?"

"You've grown fat."

"Himegimi! I beg you...to reconsider! My stomach...perfect...can't be...am not...FAT!"

Kougyoku frowns, amused by her adviser's antics. They haven't covered much distance from the throne hall, already he's complaining over the whirlwind pace at which she flees the scene.

"Hurry up! The sooner we pack, the sooner we leave this detestable place!" She walks faster, leaving the panting eunuch to catch his breath. "Come on, Ka Koubun! Let's go before something crazier happens!"

 _Alright, what to do...hanfu, hanfu, sash, comb, letter to father...turn right, next corner...that ivory case with gold inlay..._

"Wait for me, Himegimi!"

 _Souvenirs of course, maybe a basket of dates for Judar-chan...will hummus spoil on the trip back? No, maybe I shouldn't bring food...does Kouha onii-sama like camel figurines?_

"Himegimi!"

 _The maids should be here by now...need another parasol...I know I left something in the library..._

"KOUGYOKU HIME!"

"What is it, Ka Koubun?"

He opens his mouth to explain, but a battle-worthy roar thunders out, drowning his words. Years of practice steeling herself before royalty kick in, and she barely flinches as her companion points to the commotion outside the window.

"Ka Koubun, don't tell me they...they—"

"Ah. It has begun."

 _This is bad,_ Kougyoku thinks, repressing the urge to cover her ears as the noise increases a hundredfold. It's the unquenchable thirst of revolution crying out, thousands of citizens drawn to this furnace of unrest. The gathered crowd overwhelms Balbadd capital at noon — children of the slums mostly; they're loud and they're wild and they want freedom.

Of all the things a princess could do, running into a full-scale uprising is not something Kougyoku looks forward to. But here she is, smack in the middle of a mutiny that the wonderfully incompetent bureaucrats here failed to anticipate. Had anyone dared this stunt in the Imperial Palace, Koumei would have taken preventive measures and dealt with the offenders _before_ they made it to a hundred yards from the outermost wall.

But this is not Kou. And so she watches from the safety of her chambers and shakes her head as the embers of rebellion spring to life.

Heat, sweat, grime. A voice cuts through, clear and steady. "No one is immune to the problems that plague this world. However!"

Oh. That voice. She _knows_ that voice.

"If we unite, we can find a solution that allows us to live in happiness with our families and with courage in our hearts!"

 _Nonsense_. That boy has lost his head and if he won't shut up he'll get himself killed. The crowd is simply too desperate, too naive, that they gulp down every syllable like a promise of salvation. Fools they are, every single one of them. _Especially that boy._

But his words swirl into a song, and that song calls to her.

Echoes resound from childhood dreams of a kinder world. A world where the brand of prostitute's daughter doesn't reach. Where invisible chains aren't your playmates in the solitary darkness.

"Let's build a country where everyone can find happiness. Together, we shall carve the path with our own hands!" He appeals to his countrymen with arms flung wide. They reach out to offer him a bridge of mended hearts.

"Long live Balbadd! Long live Prince Alibaba!" Deafening applause reverberates through the courtyard, waves of rediscovered sunshine battering down the palace walls.

Kougyoku is no longer a child. But the ocean of warmth beckons like the mother's embrace she doesn't remember.

 _Beware, little girl, lest you be swept into the riptide._

* * *

Evening finds her at Judar's bedside. He lies unconscious, ravaged by fever that only skilled healers can placate. Guilt torments her for having to abandon him two days hence. But honestly, what more can she do? She's neither magician nor physician nor friend — in his eyes, someone to tease and nothing more.

A torch flickers out. She relights it and pours herself tea. Three cups later, another lamp forgets to ignite.

Death steals in, a phantom vulture hovering over its next meal. _Don't take Judar-chan away,_ she pleads, as dusk blends into dawn. She feels his pulse. It's a whisper compared to the waterfall that is her own. He hangs on, just barely, pale as threads of ether in the morning light.

"Give him time to recover. As you can see, he's very weak. If his condition worsens, he might not even make it," Ka Koubun states after a routine check.

"Don't call him weak. He'll hate you for it."

"Princess..."

"Judar-chan's just taking his time. Believe me, Ka Koubun, he'll definitely survive. He's fighting for his life, and you know he hates to lose."

Kougyoku's voice, made fierce by desperation, makes Ka Koubun rethink his assessment. "If you say so. He's a stubborn guy, after all, maybe death itself will give up on him."

"He'll win this time, I'm sure."

She almost convinces herself.

 _"There are two types of humans," Judar once told her. "First, the strong."_

 _"What's the other kind?" she asked._

 _"Insects," he sneered, without a glimmer of remorse on his handsome face._

She pities him, this boy of storm and shadow, who had once been her strength. When he gets better — _when_ , not _if_ , _never if —_ will he ever be able to fly?

* * *

Kougyoku and her retainers do not leave Balbadd for three days. Three days to sort her thoughts for the journey ahead.

The question is, will her country welcome her back?

Balbadd is a sultry wilderness. She hates the heat. She hates the sand. But Kou is a volcano deceptively cloaked in lush green.

It _burns._

* * *

One hour to go before her escorts arrive, Kougyoku visits the great hall to formally announce her departure.

As she nears the door, a familiar annoying voice floats past. She hears words of the republic-something and snorts. How will that get him anywhere? Too much power in ordinary people's hands is terrifying. If, as that foolish prince claims, citizens can choose their own rulers or oust them on a whim, wouldn't the end result be anarchy? For a country to be stable, a leader of iron will and immense military prowess is required. Just take the vastness of the Kou Empire as proof.

The door opens; the king of Sindria strides out. Someone channels the sun in his smile. Someone's heart trips in response.

Then her mood turns sour for right behind the dignified king is that blonde brat. He glares at her warily, like he can't shake off the image of her as an enemy out to steal his country.

She bows to Sinbad. "I shall return home now. I look forward to meeting you at Kou."

"Have a safe trip," he beams, and she can't keep a giddy smile from breaking onto her face. _Sinbad's coming to Kou! Sinbad's coming to **Kou!**_

As for the prince, she passes him by without a word. She's about five feet away when he calls her name.

"Princess Kougyoku."

She stops and turns about-face. "What is it? Is there something you wish to say to me?"

He doesn't reply at once, simply looks as if he's trying to discern her true intentions. "Take care," he says at last. It could be a farewell, a warning, or a threat.

"I'll remember that." Her feet begin to move forward until the boy in the hallway is merely a blur of gold in the recesses of her mind.

 _Take care,_ he told her. Of all the many things he could have said. An uneasy premonition eats away at her chest. She knows, just knows, her little adventure in Balbadd will have irrevocable repercussions. Another crack has manifested in her diamond-studded facade, and it will take the entire journey home to reforge the adamantine shield around her heart.

* * *

"We're nearing Rakushou!" Ka Koubun calls out.

"That's wonderful! I can't wait to be home!" Kougyoku exclaims.

She's _lying._

The palace is an unforgiving place. Even now, she can already hear their taunts.

 _All you had to do was get married! Any servant girl could pull that off!_

 _It's her stained blood that's to blame. A half princess is no princess at all! She will never amount to anything!_

Home is a cave of monsters, she reminds herself, and prepares for a thorough tongue-lashing.

All too soon, the carriage halts to a stop before the courtyard walls. Here she is, back to square one. Or lower. Much much lower. Because back then she was too young to lose arguments to princes disguised as street rats, too timid to have a shot at ruining international treaties by sheer incompetence. She had her dolls to deal with, and that was infinitely better than this.

One final gulp of afternoon fragrance and she lifts her chin and heads off to face her fate.

* * *

"Your Majesty, Princess Kougyoku seeks an audience."

 _This is it. Whatever happens, take it like a princess._

Presently she stands facing the gilded throne, head bowed, sleeves drawn close to hide her quivering arms. In the eyes of the court, there's a father and a daughter and the distance of a hallway stretching out between them. She raises her head, and in that instant, father and daughter trade places with an emperor and a princess.

Emperor Koutoku dismisses her without a glance or a word.

"I'm sorry, Father!" She falls prostrate before him, her status, her future, her very pride all splayed at his feet.

"No offspring of mine was ever so weak," he says, and those long held back crystal droplets finally shatter.

The royal family lives by one code, now broken by her very existence. She wants to beg, she wants to plead, but what comes out is unadulterated silence. _Shut up, shut up and survive,_ plays the hymn of her life. _Drink this in, brew of sorrows, and learn to live._

Thoroughly humiliated, she rises on wooden feet, forcing hollow legs to haul herself away after that disaster of a confrontation. The worst part isn't that she doesn't matter. The initial pain vanishes surprisingly fast, taken over by bitter, maddening loathing, then a beautiful numbness settles in, and she smirks. (Because isn't that the best antidote for tears?)

The Ren siblings live by one code, instilled in their hearts from the moment the first baby step sends them sprawling on the cold floor.

 _To be weak is to be worthless._ And now she doesn't care.

Ren Kougyoku has few things she calls her own. Her father's love is not among them.

* * *

"Words kill, tongues slice, but silence is cruel."

"What?" Kouha asks, absently braiding his hair in the twilight breeze.

"It's a saying." She tries to keep her voice from lapsing into monotone but fails.

"Hmm...I'm not sure. You see, I don't know what silence sounds like."

He's serious.

"I'm bored. This country has been too peaceful lately," he laments, obviously itching for a fight. How timely. That's exactly what she needs now.

"Shall have a rematch then? How about it? You, me, the training grounds?"

Bloodthirst floods his eyes. He licks his lips in anticipation.

"My pleasure."

Wasting no time, Kouha grasps the hilt of his weapon. She reaches for hers. Up they go, twin paper lanterns, to burn the night.

* * *

True to Sinbad's word, a delegation from Sindria arrives two weeks later. They're treated to a lavish welcoming banquet organized by no less than the second prince himself, with substantial input from Hakuei. Even Kouha has a say in the matter, at least concerning the grand tour of the armory. Kougyoku's left to watch the visiting party from the sidelines.

With nothing better to do, she devotes afternoons to playing the _guzheng_. Her fingers speak, and the strings listen. Music giggles and cries, a scream or a sigh or silence. On Sinbad's first day, she plays the sun. Then the clouds, the sea, the stars. Today she embodies rain.

She has honed her skill to merit better than _"Where are those blasted ear covers?!"_ or, _"If you don't stop, I swear I'll kill whoever invented that infernal harp!"_

She's not clumsy anymore, but that person's not here to listen.

"What an exquisite sound. Don't you think so, Jafar?"

She takes cover as two men walk past. The freckled one looks vaguely familiar, and the other...

Her heart squeals. Sinbad is real and Sinbad is here and Sinbad hears her.

"Eh, it stopped?" the cotton-haired guy mutters.

"How sad. I was hoping to meet a beautiful lady playing music but it seems there's no one around."

Kougyoku is not blushing. Not at all.

"There you go again, Sin. Always with pretty girls on your mind. Will you ever change?" The voice is low and full of disappointment. Kougyoku doesn't need to look to know he's shaking his head.

"—anyway, we should be going. The crown prince is expecting you."

Kougyoku waits as the strangers disappear behind a pair of dragon doors before she steps out of hiding. She draws her fingers across her instrument and plays into the fading light. Her song, she realizes, isn't just better.

It's beautiful.

* * *

 _[Lost in the desert_

 _Wind flowers bloom profusely_

 _Only a mirage.]_

A brush falls, splotching black ink on rose marble.

"Whoever invented haiku deserved to be gutted alive!" its owner cries, banging the table in frustration. She massages her left temple where a pounding headache has begun.

"This is terrible! Why exactly must I memorize poetry all day?"

She's whining like a spoiled toddler, but Sinbad's not in the vicinity and the palace regulars don't expect any better from her anyway.

Ka Koubun clears his throat. "Princess, haiku is a revered art form befitting a well-bred, accomplished wife."

"Ehhh? Why talk of marriage now? I just narrowly escaped an arrangement which ended in a revolt. With my luck, the next could lead to war!" Kougyoku wails.

"But still, knowledge of poetry is one of the signs of an intelligent woman."

"Ka Koubun."

"Yes, Himegimi?"

"You're acting strange."

He fidgets nervously. "Wh-what makes you think so?"

"I saw you laughing to yourself in the hallway earlier. Is there something you're not telling me?" She asks, remembering to slip sweet innocence into her voice.

"Of course not! I would never hide anything from you, My Princess!"

His right arm has found its way behind his robe. She can't tell if his fingers are crossed or not.

 _Oh well._

She changes topic. Ka Koubun will be Ka Koubun, and it's exhausting to be suspicious of everyone.

Reaching for her harp, she lets her hand traipse out melodies until the sun dies.

At sunset, the palace of Kou is a tranquil cacophony of burnt copper infused with scarlet — the palate of a bouquet of bleeding hearts.

* * *

The morning after the farewell state dinner, Kougyoku awakens to the unthinkable. One flip of embroidered silk sheets sends her dashing out Sinbad's room, too horrified to scream. Time stops, tears forget to spill until she reaches her sanctuary in the peach grove. She staggers toward a trunk to catch her breath, then her legs give way and she collapses into sodden earth.

She screams into the dawn. The birds in their nests scream back.

She laughs.

Throaty rasps ring through the forest, dark as the bitterest coffee. She laughs until her belly aches and her legs tremble. The irony is just too cruel.

Her existence has always been and will always be nothing more than a replaying scandal. _Stay away from us,_ her sisters would say, _lest we be tainted with your mother's sin._

Her mother who wasn't even worthy of a single oil painting. Her mother whose low social status bled into Kougyoku's life, making her the bane of the palace since birth. Her mother who died when she was just a barefoot girl learning to walk. She wants to hate this woman for not being someone else.

The temperature drops, but the trickles down her cheeks are too salty to be rain.

Pain lashes out. "That man...how dare he!"

"What man? What did he do? Are you alright, Princess?" A seemingly bewildered Ka Koubun calls out, bringing news of the Sindrian ruler's departure from court.

So, that sly fox left before she could spear him through.

"Sinbad! He's the foulest, vilest, most horrible creature on Earth! He...he..."

Ka Koubun rubs her shoulder in soothing circles as fresh tears leak out from bloodshot eyes. For all his efforts, this man is not her mother. He will never replace that missing color in her spectrum, that silent gap in her being.

She leans on him for support, silent as he leads her back to the palace. Hopefully no one will notice her muddy sleeves.

The knowing glance in the guards' eyes tells her enough. Her secret's out.

She hears shuffling footsteps. Whispers. Giggles. The maids' tongues are lightning bolts, quick and devastating. Rumors dance around the court about crimson lakes on virgin linen. The apple has fallen, they say, a breath away from the tree — same shape, same destiny. This the stain of calling a courtesan "mother". This is the inescapable grip of a cursed fate. Born of shame, raised in shadows, the girl of silence and sorrow tumbles down the abyss of disgrace she has clawed out of all her life. She's ruined, and this time, there's no hand of mercy to pull her to the light.

Kougyoku's life is a dirtied canvas splotched with monsters, no different from the smeared paper sheets littering the grass. She's under a peach tree — Judar's peach tree-etching out the state of her heart. If only he were here to chase away her pain. They're kindred souls after all; he knows strength, he knows loneliness. _But,_ she realizes and it hurts, he doesn't know filth.

Said magi arrived days ago. Immediately, she had known something was off. Were his irises ever that red?

Some mornings, she catches him strolling around flanked by men in coal robes. His gaze, more distant than ever, is blizzards and thrashing oceans. She looks past the sinister glint and sees the hollow shell of star caving in on itself. Where did her Judar-chan go?

She's lost another piece of him. There's too many missing already.

Nowadays, he's too busy to spare her a wave or a taunt. It feels as if he's extricating himself from her life, but doing that would leave gaping holes in her memory. Like when he would tease, "Your drawings are the ugliest thing ever, Old Hag!" back when she was a child attempting butterflies and rainbows but never getting the colors right.

She's drawing one now, a spectrum of macabre. Distortions of a disaster crying black and red. Black and Red. BLACK and RED. Blue drips, clashes with the red, and births violet. V.I.O.L.E.T.! The scroll is promptly crumpled and squeezed into a compact ball bleeding out ugly shades of midnight on untarnished ground.

She wipes her stained hands and tries again. This time, she renders a black sun.

"Eeeh, what's that disgusting blob supposed to be?" Kouha inquires over her shoulder.

She contemplates for a minute. "This," she explains while pointing to the left, "is a storm. And over there is the sun in hiding. In the middle is a rainbow."

"Ah, but it looks more like a river of blood. Tell me, Sister, is there perhaps someone you wish to die?" He sees it, that darkness in her heart, and it terrifies her."

"I heard the Emperor fell ill after the sendoff banquet. Have you visited him?" she asks instead, evading the question.

"No."

"Is he feeling better now?"

"No idea."

"You hate father, don't you?" She doesn't bother to mince words. Her throat is simply too hollow.

"Do I hate the man who abandoned my mother and I?" He unsheathes his sword and runs his thumb along the edge, slicing skin like a broken promise. He licks the red streak. Once. Twice. "Who knows?"

It's one of those rare conversations that remind her why she loves this brother so much. This brother of hers whose darkness enlivens, who dazzles like a broken bird, whom all can reach but none can hold. He fights to protect his little pieces of happiness, just as she has been doing all along. They're a pair of orphans rejected by a palace of perfection. Their shine will always be dimmer, the path they tread more difficult. She may lose her way, he may fall, but they will crawl on, inch by bleeding inch. He won't judge her, and she won't judge him, for the red of their blood, the red of their hair, is the same.

"Kouha onii-sama..."

"What is it, my dear sister?"

"There's somewhere I need to go. Please, take care of Kouen onii-sama for me."

He looks at her like she's lost her mind. Then understanding dawns on him, and he cracks a smile that to normal people should be terrifying.

It's the greatest comfort she's received.

Once upon a time, Kougyoku was a girl who called herself a shadow. Now she dwells in a land of dragons, to which she is no exception.

 _Who am I?_

She's neither shadow nor dragon, just a weak girl who dreams of being strong. If there's one thing she can do, it's to fight until her last breath. She has no right to wallow in shame any longer. She will find a way to cleanse herself of this dishonor.

 _Sinbad, Father, you will never have that power over me again! I am not my mother! I am not your toy! I am Kougyoku! And I shall not rest until the day I take revenge!_

The mirror cracks. The girl who was and the girl who will be stare back. She finds herself at zero, the fine line between never and forever, where destinies clash and one story's end is where another begins.

What's a girl to do?

 _If your country abandons you, then abandon your country._

* * *

The next morning she surprises her stepbrother by marching towards his spot during training.

The dawn chill enfolds her in its phantom grasp, cool as ghosts. Nothing left to lose now.

"Hakuryuu," she croaks out with the hoarse remnants of her melodic voice, "take me with you to Sindria. I have a score to settle with that dastardly king!"

* * *

Sindria is salt and sand sprawling over sun-kissed waves. It's also home to the object of her anger.

"What's your business with our country?" some port official asks.

"Marriage," Ka Koubun replies. _Murder_ , her mind screeches.

An envoy is sent ahead to herald their coming. Kougyoku has roughly an hour to prepare for a duel.

Before long, the ship touches down on the emerald shores and there he is. The pathetic excuse for a king and his eight minions. The prince from Balbadd is also present, as well as that boy whose pet monster hurt Judar.

The aura of the crowd grows more tense by the minute. They're afraid to antagonize the empire. Good.

Hakuryuu embarks first to introduce himself to Sindria's ruler. He is cordially greeted, as though Sinbad never did Kou any wrong. Then the crowd parts and she steps forward.

"It's Lady Ren Kougyoku!"

"The princess who has a crush on Sinbad?"

"She chased him all the way to Sindria?"

"She must really like him!"

"As expected of the Lady Killer of the Seven Seas!"

"It's been awhile, hasn't it? I'm truly glad you have chosen to grace us with your presence," Sinbad greets her, smiling confidently as always.

 _He. Didn't. Even. Apologize._

She's counting the dozen ways to decapitate him when the crowd gasps. His petrified expression is framed by purple strands floating down from the blade of her sword. So she did strike him. Next time she'll aim for his neck.

"You, vile creature, deserve to die a thousand deaths for such a heinous act! How dare you call yourself king yet act like a barbarian!"

To her surprise, the white-haired guy turns on him next. "What is the meaning of this?What did you do to her, Sin? Don't tell me you-"

That's it. Her worst fears are confirmed. Why, only now, does it dawn upon her to cry?

"I didn't do anything!" Sinbad objects."I swear I'm innocent! Don't you believe me?"

He's panicking now. Good for him.

Ka Koubun intervenes and tells the story. To her surprise, the crowd actually believes him. _Wait, Sinbad's trusted men don't take his side? What a weak king. Try that at Kou, and Kouen onii-sama will have your head._

Chaos erupts. Everyone is murmuring or pointing fingers and here she is weeping like a pathetic child while that prince looks on. He's caused her enough grief over Balbadd already; she can't stand to have him watch her like this.

 _This isn't what I came here for._

Hiding her trepidation, she rises on shaky legs. "Sinbad! I challenge you to a duel! I'll cut off your arrogant head and then...then...I'll kill myself!"

"Aaagh! I can't stand this!" he shouts.

He calls to a lady with seashells on either side of her head. It's indecent, the clothing she wears _. I can never look at scallops the same way._ But this woman has a calming effect on Kougyoku's tears, like she knows all the answers she's been searching for all her life.

"Are you sure of this?" the lady asks.

Kougyoku manages to nod, and Ka Koubun's sudden cry fades into white noise.

With a cry of "Sharar Rakesa!" water magic conglomerates into life-sized figures of the princess and the king. The scene plays out unexpectedly. Neither the accused nor the aggrieved is at fault.

 _Wait, so why didn't I just ask Judal-chan? I could have spared myself all this trouble. I screwed up again, didn't I?_

"I'm sorry! I'm very, very sorry for all the trouble I caused." She hopes they take pity on her. Her rash actions are another dirty rag in her hoard of disgrace, and if her father finds out...

But Sinbad is busy reprimanding his men. They mutter hasty apologies when someone calls out, "Who is the mastermind?"

Her soldiers point to none other than her most trusted adviser.

"Ka Koubun? The one behind this is you?" She can't believe the turn of events. All her anger the previous month was for nothing. Worse yet is the string of betrayal from the person who raised you up.

"I had to!" He grabs his sword, but Hakuryuu knocks it away.

Now her stepbrother bows and apologizes on her behalf. The situation is beyond humiliating. _Ka Koubun, why did you resort to something so cruel?_ To others, it's a cheap trick. To her, a reminder that she's only meant to be used. She's known for years she's part of his scheme, but for him to go this far crushes another inch of her heart.

"Princess, I beg of you, please forgive me this worthless scoundrel!" He clings to her waist, beseeching, like a child.

She can't blame him, she realizes, wrapping her arms around him. The move was in her best interest, might as well secure her a decent marriage since she's already degraded herself in the emperor's eyes. Truth is, she has no one else. No one would do for her what Ka Koubun did, ulterior motive or not.

"Don't say that, Ka Koubun! You're a good person." _You pitied a stray that no one else cared to notice. For that, I am eternally in your debt._

The gathered throng dissipates and Sinbad approaches her. It takes all her willpower not to recoil in shame. "Now that this matter is behind us, welcome to Sindria!"

She's forgiven. In this foreign country, by this stranger, she's given a second chance. Kou could never overlook her single mistake, but here...can faults really be erased?

"Liberty is our language. Freedom is our commodity. We neither conquer nor allow ourselves to be conquered," Sinbad proclaims. "Please, enjoy your stay."

Not too far away, three friends are chatting excitedly. A girl with magenta hair, a boy with a long braid, and a prince. She sees the tallest one squint from the corner of her eye. There's still bad blood between them, but she won't let that dampen her spirits.

She fakes a smile, one of many she expects to come. "I am deeply honored to be your guest. Would you be so kind as to introduce me to your country?"

"Gladly." With a broad sweep of his hand, Sinbad gestures to the assortment of bystanders behind him. "First things first. Meet my eight generals!"

 _This country has a special charm,_ she thinks as he introduces them one by one. _Nothing like the brazen way Kou flaunts its wealth._

 _I think I'll hang out for a while._


	4. Shimmer

The first thing you notice about Sindria is that the wind is alive. The air ripples with the melody of this naughty trickster seeking a playmate. It barrels through the island in dramatic exhales and burps and gusts out-breathing each other, hammering trees, slapping the sea, whistling invitations to a game of tag. Flocks of waves give chase, launching squirming ribbons of white froth to the shore. In jumps the sun, yellow jealous, unfurling prismatic wings to cast a spotlight of its own. The horizon flutters awake as gossamer whispers of lavender dawn cue the mist to paddle away.

In this idyllic morning, against the backdrop of an island paradise, two princes shake hands in the first breaths of comradeship as their friends look on in _unbelievable-they-actually-don't-hate-each-other_ awe.

Except the boy with his eyebrows crossed. Except the girl with the bored frown.

 _Cut it out, kid. We're not in Balbadd anymore._

"What a scary glare."

One, two, four heads turn at her remark. The last thing Kougyoku wants is to start another argument. She's tired of being mad. And she's tired of being hated.

"Hey, I know we've never gotten along, but can't we put the past behind us, for now?" she says.

"She's right. Fighting is pointless. Besides, we're all guests of Sinbad oji-san and shouldn't cause trouble here." The boy agrees easily — logically, reasonably — and she considers upgrading her opinion of him.

"Let bygones be bygones, then. Why don't we be friends?"

In a mock imitation of the earlier duo's gesture of acceptance, they extend their arms in a handshake, or rather, a competition to detach the other's limb.

"That hurt!" Kougyoku bites out. _How dare he._ She hasn't forgiven him for Judal's near-death encounter.

"Are you sure? Seems like 'that' is just your make-up that came off. Who would have guessed you're covered head to toe in this stuff?"

 _And just WHO do you think you're talking to, you brat?_ "You rude little—"

Did he stick his tongue out? The gall of this runt! _Mustn't use Vinea, mustn't use Vinea..._

Mutual growls and livid glares mark the stirrings of squabble which their companions rush to avert.

"Aladdin, maybe you should calm down."

"Morgiana is right! Nothing good will come out of it if you quarrel like this. Oi, Aladdin!"

"But...Alibaba-kun, she started it!" he says in defense, grabbing fistfuls of red hair.

She yanks his braid away from his skull, squeezing tears from his eyes. "I did? _I_ did?! I'm the one trying to be nice! Unlike certain ill-mannered brats who don't know how to treat a lady..."

"You know, usually when pretty ladies _try to be nice_ , they don't act like bullies," he points out in singsong chirps that grate at her ears. Despite their height difference, he succeeds in loosening one of her hair loops while mumbling something like _"For Ugo-kun!"_

She pinches him and pulls, hard. "Are you calling me ugly you... _pipsqueak_?" That's not the vocabulary of a princess. Chalk it up to years of Judal-ness rubbing off on her.

They continue until her hair is a weeping mess and his braid is nonexistent. Presently her palm is in his face, pushing him away as he scratches at her scalp.

"Arghhh...let go! You're ruining my hair!"

"Only because your make-up's hurting my eyes!"

"Kougyoku-dono..."

"Aladdin..."

"Someone stop these two!"

A volley of unspoken death threats and disgruntled hisses later, the magi and the princess call a truce under blue sky as young, giggling clouds carry on.

* * *

Sindria is oceans apart from Kou or Balbadd. Here the clouds watch and the sea listens and the wind owns an orchestra of bamboo flutes. Here everyone rejoices in emerald waters and golden sand uncolored by the smoke of politics. This is freedom, more than she's ever imagined, and once she tastes it, she's never ever letting go.

Kougyoku and Hakuryuu get their island tour courtesy of scallop lady, Yama—, Yamu—, Yuma— what was it?

"This is a jellyfish," says Pisti, pointing to a translucent half-melon glob. This girl's name is one she easily remembers. There's just something about her childlike appearance and the puff of her clothes that makes her think of a certain brother with three cute braids.

They stop under the shade of a cluster of palms. She's still taking it all in, trying not to be mesmerized. There are clusters and clusters of little star jasmines here and there and ripe fruit everywhere. All the shapes of hibiscus, all the shades of stargazers, four different butterflies where dry-brush magenta furls embrace a mossy branch in a death hold. _I could stay here forever_ , she thinks. Trade silk for cotton, tea for coconut juice, roses for orchids. And when the sun is too bright, she'll find safe haven in the ringed bark of coconuts, let its fronds enfold her like a mother and pretend the whorled snails scuttling around know the real meaning of home.

And yet, she feels like a hermit crab in a borrowed shell. Her sleeves still carry the scent of Kou's tea roses.

Reality grips her like the black-fringed edge of a serrated dream. The eighth princess Ren Kougyoku will always be Kou's property. Sindria will always be a potential enemy.

But _Kougyoku-who-defeated-a-giant_ and _Kougyoku-who-argued-with-a-prince_ and _Kougyoku-who-challenged-a-king-to-a-duel_ are a different person. She is that person now. When you're someone and somewhere else, the rules don't apply. Seconds flirt with you, daring you to do more. Forget your heartache; lose yourself in the sun.

So she does.

* * *

On her second day in Sindria, Kougyoku learns two things: The people here laugh a lot and everyone adores King Sinbad.

What's more, he treats his people as equals and dotes on his generals like old friends.

 _Friends..._

Kouen had admirers, Kouha had supporters, Koumei had the ears of every war council attuned to his words, but a friend is a foreign concept. The folks by the wharf seem nice, maybe she could befriend one of them? They wouldn't have to pledge undying loyalty to one another, they wouldn't even need visit often, they'd just have to be...friends. Whatever that means. Her only point of reference is someone whose favorite pastime is teasing her to death.

 _I wonder what Judal-chan's doing now. Hmm...probably pulling pranks on the servants. Having fun without me._

She peels off the skin of a mango and tosses it into a growing tower of avocado pits and papaya skins. These aren't peaches, but they're good.

A strong sea breeze lifts the awning above, ruffling her hair yet again. She's having an early lunch to the music of swords clashing, thanks to the master and apprentice who have been sparring all morning, the general from Heliohapt and Prince What's-his-name Saluja. The sound of steel on steel makes Kougyoku feel a little less homesick. In this battle of sword and scimitar, the older man is clearly an expert, but the young prince learns quickly.

 _I wish I could join them. The general looks tough, but I think I can handle the prince — Alibaba. Right, that's his name._

With a final twang, Alibaba lies on the ground defeated. It's no surprise — he's the weaker one of the pair. What's strange is that she's almost sorry to see him lose.

 _Since when was I rooting for him?_

The men collect their blades and head off to the dining hall, leaving Kougyoku with her thoughts. She shakes her head and proceeds to flick off wrinkled seeds from a sliver of pomelo. She isn't careful enough with the stringy skin, so a chunk of salmon pulp falls to the ground — along, perhaps, with something else.

* * *

There's a commotion in the palace that afternoon. "What's going on?" she inquires of the servants rushing past.

"Something bad happened. No one knows the exact details, but King Sinbad and the prince from Balbadd are involved," Ka Koubun informs her. As expected, Alibaba's name shows up again. Can't this guy go anywhere without causing a stir?

She arrives at the scene just in time to see Sinbad slice apart a man hovering in the air. Hakuryuu shields her from the inky shower that bursts from his body. When she opens her eyes, half of Sinbad's face and his right shoulder are coated in a pitch-black blood-like substance. Alibaba's shoulder is affected, too. Then, in a show of horror, the intruder's body becomes whole again before their eyes. A curse has activated, he says. He mentions kings and rukh and "depravity" and someone named Solomon. Those robes, that mask, are not unfamiliar. Shadows of Kou have followed them even here.

"You will be reborn as a completely different person. I'll be waiting for you to join us in the darkness," are his parting words before he vanishes in a swirl of dark energy.

Becoming unrecognizable, turning into someone else...

 _Does this have something to do with you, Judal-chan?_

Meanwhile, plans are formed. Alibaba and company will be sent off on a mission to the dungeon Zagan.

"I'll be accompanying Alibaba-dono and his friends," declares Hakuryuu.

Pisti steps forward, bubbling with energy. "I'm coming, too!"

"I thought you came here to study. Why the sudden talk of capturing a dungeon?" asks Kougyoku, addressing her stepbrother.

"This will be an educational experience in itself. I wish to learn more about the world through my travels, instead of just seeing it from the confines of Rakushou," he explains.

"Well then, I hope you return safely from your dungeon quest."

Hakuryuu doesn't take any Kou soldiers with him. He packs all his belongings into one bag and prepares to join the magi, fanalis, and fellow prince on their dangerous adventure.

 _Judal-chan isn't going with them. Hakuryuu should have gone dungeon raiding with Judal-chan instead of this perverted brat!_

"We'll be heading off, then!"

"Goodbye, Oji-san! Goodbye, Yamu-san!"

"Farewell, everyone! We'll take care of Hakuryuu!" Alibaba waves from where he stands. Then, unexpectedly, "See you, Princess."

 _Huh?_

Sun bounces off his amber eyes, revealing inner depths. They're so different from the garnet scarabs that are Judal's, which won't let go without tearing off a piece of your soul. She blinks and he turns away and she wonders. Everyone is their own world and every world is its own color, but for a brief moment, they might have overlapped.

* * *

A whirlwind rips through Sindria's barrier, slamming into the courtyard with the furor of twenty thousand whirligig sky. The frenzied gales clear up to reveal Judal in all his pre-Ugo glory, this carefree magi who belongs everywhere and owns everything.

He spits out threats like black scorpionfire. His audience responds with a circle of tipped spears. The soldiers are no match for Kou's oracle, they know that, but their fear is overpowered by alarm over the future of their beloved country. As the eight generals take their positions, Kougyoku's fingers inch toward her hairpin, her one defense if all hell breaks loose. She holds her breath and counts at least thirty death glares in the vicinity. Looks like this is going to be a bloody fight.

Judal's expression changes. Tears leak out of his eyes, and they don't look faked as he slumps on the cobblestone in a defeated pose. "I'm a victim, too! They murdered my family! I never got to see my parents! Is that my fault? All I ever wanted was to live a normal life!" His voice cracks, more raw than she's ever seen him.

 _"Don't you ever wonder about your parents? Or if you have siblings?"_ she had asked him a few times.

 _"Heh! Who needs family when you're the most powerful guy in the world?"_

Why is Judal-chan confessing his dark past to a foreign king when he never so much as breathed a word to her before?

Sinbad makes a move to approach him, but draws back as Judal nearly doubles over in mocking laughter. The Sindrian court watches in horror as murder tumbles off his lips. "I can't wait to kill you, Sinbad!" he proclaims, the way one would talk of rainbows. "Kou will crush Sindria!" His eyes light up like a bundle of obsidian sparks thrilled to set the clouds aflame.

All that talk of killing, carnage, and destruction is too much, even for her. She's always known Judal was walking that path yet only now does she realize how far gone he is. It's all that creepy organization's fault! They made him their puppet and twisted and twisted him through the years until he forgot his shape.

 _Give him back_ , she wants to beg, but she might as well attempt hammering clouds.

"What do you mean, Judal-chan?" she blurts out instead.

"War is coming to these shores!" he grins, bright as an eclipse.

She remembers he was once a boy who decapitated chickens with ice spears and struck down cats with lightning. One day he roasted a kitten alive and held up the charred remains like a war trophy. He didn't know she cried herself to sleep that night. The darkness in Judal scares her; it really does. But who is she to ask for anything better? She's no more a creature of the light than he is.

"You should come back, Kougyoku. You ran away because of your mistake in Balbadd, didn't you? It's alright. Come back and I'll make you a general."

She can't answer. _Stay_ , Sinbad told her. _Come_ , Judal offers. She wants so desperately to believe him, to take him up on his offer like when they were younger. Alas, for all Judal's influence in Kou, can he protect her from her father's disappointment? Can she bear to go back only to be ignored again by the court?

"What's wrong, Kougyoku? Isn't that your wish? To be a general and fight for your country?"

He's right. But a wish is not a want. To wish is to dream, to want is to do battle.

Kou has judged her unfit. That's why she ran away. Even if she fights with every ounce of strength she has, the palace will never, ever accept her.

 _What do you want?_

Someone who sees you. The fearful and the feared you, the mirror you, the what-if you, the lost and found bits of you, the you you never knew. Someone who sees you and doesn't look away. That's her true wish, and sadly, even Judal doesn't know it.

"What's wrong, Kougyoku?"

 _Everything. You're wrong. I'm wrong. The world is wrong._

In another life, might things have been better?

"Suit yourself. Just remember that Sindria is our enemy. Oh, and don't forget to tell Hakuryuu! See ya!" He blazes away, his hollow laughter resonating in their ears.

No one says a word. Even the wind is unusually quiet.

She realizes later, under dappled mango sky, noise and silence are the same — you can't hear the music. He's gone again and she finds herself missing him. But he's a razor blade. The tighter your grip, the deeper you bleed. The best thing to do is let go.

 **TBC**


	5. Glint

Death. War with Sindria brings death. Kou is a nation with monstrous hands and an enormous belly, and no living creature can hinder its quest to satisfy both.

This is death. The army has returned, with missing limbs and missing people, bearing rumors of corpses sowed upon the bloody battlefield. Some fools plotted a coup in the palace; the perpetrators were tormented until their lifestream ceased to function. The empress choked her servants and no one could revive them. Her brother went on a rampage, soiling his garments with patches of dried maroon. She destroyed a monster, and that monster was someone's dear friend, and even if the sea were to open its hidden caverns, she can never bring him back.

This is war. A man hacks down a tree for firewood; it topples down with skull-pulverizing vengeance. Who shall bury them now?

By the look of things, Sindria fully expects to defend itself from an invasion. Judal the great magi - Judal the fomenter of calamities - Judal-chan, her friend, has come howling destruction and there's no telling when the hoard of spear-wielding dragons will be unleashed upon this sea-land. If that time comes - if, not when, for there may yet be an escape - she could be one of those tasked to pillage and lay waste to this tiny part of the world that has been her safe haven these past three weeks.

It won't be her first kill. Kougyoku is no less innocent to drawing blood than her sword, whose silver tip learned to silence a heartbeat on the queen's orders. Faced with no choice but to obey, she held her breath and lied to her fifteen year old self that murder was an act of mercy, granting a swift end to prolonged torture. Judal's congratulations were the only solace for the sickening crunch of metal on bone and flesh reverberating at midnight, and the cold edge of her irises afterward.

"Why are you always with that boy?" Ka Koubun would sometimes reprimand her after certain magi-related incidents in memory, including but not limited to: freezing the tub just before her bath, switching the contents of her wardrobe with a heap of dirty rags, hiding toads under her bed, and taking her on carpet rides only to leave her stranded on the palace roof.

"Can't you stay away from him? You've got more than enough on your hands to go looking for trouble!" Ka Koubun would admonish her, covered in dust from having to climb up the roof to rescue his princess.

He doesn't understand. She seeks his presence as the land-bound long for the heavens beyond their reach. She wants to grasp the breeze around him and ask it to play with her. She wants to draw a face into his shadow and listen to it divulge the secrets of the universe. She wants those cerise moons to take her everywhere she has never been to all the adventures she'll never have. If her brothers are the clouds that rise to devour the sky, then he has always been her pair of wings.

 _Traitor_ , the waves scream. _You chose Sindria._ And the sea snakes conspire to drown her. _Traitor_.

There are no peaches in Sinbad's country. She stays anyway.

But could they blame her? Her family was willing to sell her for a scrap of paper. Her trusted advisor, guardian, and father figure attempted the same. To Kou she is a pawn, in Sindria she feels like her own person. Sinbad has been accommodating, but more than that, he speaks to her like a respected ally who could one day become a friend. Was it too much to hope Judal would be the one to treat her that way?

It's futile. There is nothing but the memory of his voice, and even that is too slippery to hang on to.

"I miss him," she tells the little orange flower in her hand. The tips have begun to wilt, and one of its petals lie has fallen by the wayside, surrounded by comrades blown away from their home plants to bite the dust.

"I miss him, and I can't even tell him that."

She doesn't mention his name because names can destroy the world.

* * *

To clear her head, the princess paces the length of the beach, cutting her bare feet on broken shells and bits of coral. With each step, she feels the pain of the whitewashed remains between her toes, grateful for something to distract her from the killer waves clashing within her skull. _Him, here, there, her,_ and _them_ flood her thoughts, polluting everything with how and why and what if, until the tempest dives into her belly and roars.

The great bell rings, signaling the advent of noon. With a final exasperated sigh, she retrieves her parasol and shoes from under the companionable silence of a bamboo palm. Shaking off sand, she hurries inland to find Ka Koubun and lunch, eager to lose herself in a meal of grilled tuna and seven different kinds of fruit.

* * *

A full stomach dulls Kougyoku's mind enough to relax under an apple mango tree. Rays of warm buttermilk rain down the branches, setting the leaves aglow. She settles herself by the base of the trunk and watches the palace with half-lidded eyes. From here, the great turquoise domes resemble stone tortoises sunning themselves on the city's peak, leagues across the silvery green of the orchards.

What a shame for all that beauty to be transformed into a warzone. Kou would win, of course - it always does - unless Sinbad could somehow change the nature of battle itself. Wouldn't it be funny if the empire's forces were to come armed with canons and crossbows and all the fishermen in Sindria would retaliate by throwing turtles and frogs and snails on their attackers? She can imagine the looks on her brothers' faces if that were to happen.

Squeeze, unsqueeze, squeeze, unsqueeze, sigh. It's been so long since they last sat down for tea. If only they were here gazing at the beach from a little thatched hut, discussing how to fish instead of planning war. That would be nice. And next to impossible.

If Kouen were here, he'd hole himself in the library and it would take a battalion to extract him from those books. Kouha would frequent the training grounds ... and the baths. As for Koumei, he'd stop at nothing to make the Papagoras birds his pets. She closes her tired eyelids, wondering what the world would be like if universal peace prevailed. Maybe home would be more like Sindria. And possibly, she wouldn't have grown up dreaming of being a warrior, but something else. Then her sword wouldn't be her best friend, because there'd be someone, _someone_...

Gradually, the roughness of the bark soothes her scattered thoughts, and the snoring of the ocean puts her to sleep.

* * *

She awakens to a downpour of coral fruit.

Could it be? He's back, he's back - she looks up, no, it's just two youngsters shaking twigs, perched on the fork in the trunk.

It's not _him_.

"Oi, Sudhir, Aheli, watch where you drop those things! You might hit the pretty lady!"

"What are you doing?" Kougyoku asks, bewailing the abrupt end to her nap.

"We're taking these to the market for our parents to sell," the one in charge of the fallen fruit tells her.

"Nadja! Throw us another basket!" hollers a scratchy voice from up the branches. A girl descends with the agility of forest creatures and hops toward her friend, arms outstretched to collect bundles of their harvest currently being lowered through rope by the sole boy in the pack.

They're wearing identical shell bracelets, Kougyoku notices, and immediately thinks of getting one for herself.

At last their companion joins them, swinging down fearlessly, his clothes and fingers sticky with drying sap. They hastily brush off charcoal ants and prepare to wash their produce in the nearby stream.

"Nee-san, do you want one?" the girl Nadja offers. "We're sorry for waking you up." She smiles, and once again Kougyoku's sight is filled with wiry hair, coffee skin, and two gaps in milky white teeth.

"No thank you. I'm full," she declines, for even now it's unthinkable to accept offers from common folk especially when away from one's country.

The children finish their work here and race to their next destination, playfully knocking into each other along the way. The sweet little girl waves goodbye to Kougyoku, and she surprises herself by waving back.

That's how friends act, she reckons, with a queasy feeling in her chest. It's something like her interactions with Judal and her youngest older brother, except for the lightness in their step that she doesn't recall from any account of the past.

Straightening her sleeves, she heads toward the bright-colored shelters uphill, telling herself there's no need to go looking for a friend at a time like this, and it's more than enough to have Ka Koubun - who she catches fanning himself wildly, saying the sun got into his eye, and all this sand reminds him of Balbadd and when are they going home and so on. At least he doesn't seem in the mood to concoct some outrageous scheme she'd rather die than be part of.

"Ka Koubun, I'm going somewhere," she announces.

That snaps him to attention. "Ha? Where? You must have a guard to accompany you. We never know what dangers lurk here, especially after what that magi said right in front of the whole court!"

"It's alright, it's just someplace nearby, and I won't be gone long. Besides, I'll be with someone. W-why don't you rest?" she says in one breath, disappearing behind a wall before her caretaker has the chance to follow.

Kougyoku's little detour takes her to heart of the central bazaar. It's full of noise and full of life, and the marketgoers are too busy bargaining and catching up on the latest news to notice the presence of a girl in foreign clothes. The people here look too kind to pose a threat, and if anything untoward were to happen, she'd just whip out her metal vessel and defend herself. Of course, Sinbad wouldn't appreciate her making a wreck of his beloved town, so she'll need to exercise the utmost discretion as she wanders these crowded streets. Careful not to get run over by the passing carts, she takes in the sights, noting how different the Sindrian roofs are from the curved triangles she's accustomed to, and how the average person's attire consists of thin cotton with plain embroidery that's as simple in design as what slaves wear back home. Perhaps she could try out one of those?

"All merchandise sold at half price! The offer lasts only until noon!" a vendor cries out, followed by shouts from left, right, and every corner.

"Roasted cashews! Tamarind candy!"

"Pineapple! Rose apple! Custard apple! Star apple!"

No persimmons, nectarines, cherries, or plums? In their place are avocado, guava, mangosteen, soursop, grapefruit, cotton fruit, dragonfruit, passion fruit, starfruit, and other exotic names. Some she's tasted before, and some she's never heard of.

Presently, she stops to marvel at a batch of hairy, red and yellow berry-like fruit.

"Ah, this is our specialty! We call this maharlika rambutan," the man informs her. He nicks the thick rind in the center and forces open the two halves. A colorless ovoid pops out from the inner white cradle and clear juice drips into her hand. On impulse, she sucks her finger, grateful there are no Kou guards around to be scandalized by her unprincesslike behavior. It's sweet like lychee, but more…rich in flavor? The paper thin seed coat peels off and gets stuck between her teeth.

What a sadistic fruit.

Her next discovery is even weirder. Someone's eating a jackfruit that smells worse than rotten, forcing Kougyoku to cover her nose.

The seller laughs. "You're new around here, eh, Miss?" he observes. "Don't worry; you'll get used to the stink. The pulp may smell awful, but it's one of the best things you'll ever taste in your life! That holds true for a lot of things, don't you agree?"

The odor is horrid as ever, yet the man's words tug at something within, like the children from earlier rattling clusters of fruit, and she just _knows_ the answers she seeks will soon be ripe enough to grasp.

 _Patience, Kougyoku, you'll figure this out before it's too late. Good things come to those who wait._

She's been waiting too long in one spot, she realizes, when a flock of rowdy street children crash into her skirts, knocking her over. She grabs onto a lean-to at the last moment, but twists her ankle in the process.

"Kids, watch where you're going!" the shopkeeper reprimands them. The juvenile mobsters gallop away, impersonating banshees in their flight, drawing stares as they bounce and dodge and fire seeds at each other.

"Brats these days," he says with a sad shake of his head. "Are you alright, Miss?"

Kougyoku gets up, more surprised by the truants' sudden appearance than actually hurt. It seems this will be the end of her market adventures, though. Before the incident, she never thought more dangerous things than swordplay could exist in such harmless guise.

The moment she returns to the emerald tower, Ka Koubun notices the limp in her step and puts his household vessel to work. The menthol waters embrace her leg, cleansing her of all pain.

"Did you see the culprits' faces? We should demand their arrest. No less than a lifetime in prison is what they deserve for hurting Kou's precious princess!"

She flinches involuntarily, because, for all her understanding of foreign protocol, the thought of punishment has not occurred to her.

"Ka Koubun, they're just kids...playing rough and I wasn't looking where I was going so it was partly my fault."

"Why are you covering for those good-for-nothings? Princess, you've grown soft. Sindria has not been a good influence."

Kougyoku chooses not to comment, munching instead on a mound of brown, thick-skinned grapes with cloved centers. Ka Koubun fails to coax further replies from her, and gives up. He leaves a candle on the table at her request before retiring to his room with a heavy look on his face.

Kougyoku stays up to ponder the day's events. So much has happened over the course of the past months. She could have been the queen of a desert state by now, if certain tumultuous circumstances had not diverted her path.

Does she prefer that life?

 _No_.

She'd gladly endure these trials than suffer marriage to that pi- person. Maybe some good will come out of her misadventures, is her last coherent thought before her breathing slows to the overture of geckos trumpeting their ode to the black sheen that steals the color of everything.

* * *

The sun must be an acupuncturist. And the denizens of Sindria are the target of translucent yellow needles tipped with wasp poison.

That explains why Kougyoku's been feeling woozy on her feet all morning, with as much grace as a leaking keg of molasses, hot and humid and sticky as herself. She thrusts her weapon forward, scattering imaginary opponents and droplets of sweat alike. Today she resumes sword practice in a secluded spot some distance away from the Scorpio Tower, but the heat throws off her already fraying concentration.

Oh, for frozen cream in summer, with strawberries on top - a signature Judal trick sure to leave others salivating.

 _"I believe that is not how mastery of the rukh was intended to be used,"_ Kouen remarked once, staring narrow-eyed at the magi's frosty cacao on chopstick.

 _"I'll use it any way I want!"_ came the brazen retort.

Kougyoku's hands flew to her mouth in shock. Kouen raised an eyebrow but otherwards took it in as an unfortunate side effect of being in close contact with a nasty-mouthed magi. Judal smirked and downed the icy treat in one gulp.

 _"Heh. What a terrible person. He didn't even share any of that sweet stuff with us,_ " Kouha whispered to her, lamenting his inability to turn water to stone.

Now the three in the picture are together plotting mayhem while she stresses her brain thinking of ways to prevent it. Her mission is clear: she must persuade Sinbad not to launch an offensive against her homeland. But will he listen? She's merely a princess who came here uninvited; to make matters worse, the very first thing she did was point accusing fingers at him and whack off his hair like a madman.

That wasn't one of her brightest moments.

She flings down her weapon - exhausted, ashamed, frustrated, and just about ready to break down. The wind picks up and teases her hair into a disaster, unsympathetic to Kougyoku's plight. Vines whip out their snake limbs, infants' hands stretched out to the ageless breeze. Every hooked tendril roots itself in the current, and among the mosaic of greenery are four glowing orbs.

Firmly clasped to a slender branch is a little monkey-mouse creature with bat ears and disproportionally huge eyes on a face that is both child and hermit, tilting its furry head in a manner she could only describe as cute. It slinks back, fully dilating those enormous olive marbles, bares its teeth, and lets out a high-pitched shriek. The branch quivers as tiny padded feet leap away to safety, the last of its screams fading into the rustle of leaves.

The second pair of slits belongs to a tall, muscular man with a crop of cherry hair. Taking stock of his features, she recognizes the lip ring and dead serious eyes of one of her opponents from Balbadd. _Fanalis. Faster and stronger than a dungeon beast._ She knows to be wary.

Carefully, she draws back, prepared to arm herself if the need arises. Yet caution fails; she ends up getting pricked on the fuchsia and lilac bougainvilla hedge.

"You're bleeding," the general points out.

She rolls up her sleeves. There's a puckered gash on her forearm spilling carmine liquid. And then she feels it - spiking, stabbing, ripping at the meeting point of skin and flesh.

"You knew?" Was that a lucky guess? Or does she look that fragile to his half-human eyes?

"I smelled your blood."

That is unnerving.

His gaze drifts to the hairpin stabbed in the ground. "The smell of seawater is fresh. You were training?"

Should she tell him? He's a stranger. Dangerous, even. But he's Sinbad's ally, and Sinbad has been so kind…

"Well, one must train to be strong, right?" she replies, praying her voice doesn't hitch.

He's got no interest to goad her to a fight. Lucky, because even with Vinea on her side, his strength can batter down ice barricades.

"You remind me of someone."

 _Who? The fanalis girl with a side ponytail?_

He gives her one last enigmatic look and starts to walk away, leaving the unasked question unanswered. "Remember to bandage that wound before it swells." The wall of thorns parts; he does _not_ cut himself, and all traces of him are gone.

What a strange man. He is strong in ways inhumanly possible.

 _If I had that strength, could I stop the war?_

 _Would I?_

* * *

Befuddled Kougyoku needs one thing: a hot bath. She leans into the wooden tub, letting the scent of rose attar and lavender untangle her worries ... let the matter of Sindria and Kou wait, what she needs is to relax ... and then ... the fragrance mixes with the pungency of smoke.

Her eyes shoot open in panic. Has the army arrived? Are they attacking already? Kougyoku rushes to squeeze herself into a change of clothes, heartbeat popping out of her chest, and hurls herself into the wind to face the national emergency ... er, minor mishap. Guests and guards alike have flocked around, craning their necks to get a better view of where a black funnel cloud gurgles upward from the one of the windows of the palace.

Someone's burning down the kitchen.

How anticlimactic.

People are shouting for pails of water, and rope, and everyone seems in a state of spontaneous discombobulation. Wanting to help, she starts to reach for her hairpin when a massive cloud coagulates above the roof and drops a waterfall into the flaming room. The fire has been put out successfully, but as for the smoke...

The acrid gust chokes her throat, sending her and everyone else into a hacking fit.

"Everything's fine!" a high-pitched voice calls out. Now that the billowing gray has cleared up, a spellcaster's hat emerges from the charred doorframe.

Alibaba's trainer approaches the scene with a bored look. "Why am I not surprised? Still haven't burned your face, I see," he addresses the lady pockmarked with soot.

 _Yamuraiha_ , she remembers. _Sharrkan and Yamuraiha._ Funny it took a dramatic combustion to get the names right.

Yamuraiha speaks. "Well...with Aladdin gone, I had nothing much to do so I thought I'd experiment with some formulas."

"Eh? I miss my pupil, too. But that's no excuse to be playing with fire especially for someone who, last time, burned a whole pot of rice!"

"I was in a hurry!"

"Yes, yes, you incinerated the whole thing with a blast from your staff. Is that how you cook? Toss stuff in a furnace and call it edible?"

"Hey! My cooking is just fine! It's your taste buds that aren't functioning!"

"My taste buds say that you should be roasting real meat instead of whatever slimy creature swimming in that stinky stuff that looks like hog intestine brew!"

"How dare you ridicule my concoction! I'm making stewed liver! And I bet when I'm done it'll be the best you've ever tasted!"

"Ha? Don't kid yourself. The only thing you can cook is bean soup! And don't forget that infamous poisoned chicken pie that made all of us throw up for days!"

"I. Can. Cook. Way. Better. Than. You - unless of course I'm in a hurry to stop a magi who destroyed my barrier meant to keep certain _ingrates_ like _you_ safe!"

"What did you call me?!"

"I said you're a—"

"Ahem!"

"She/he started it!" they scream, butting heads in unison.

Kougyoku blinks.

"Oh, it's the princess. Watch your manners, you uncouth swordsman!"

"What was that, you arsonist-unfit-to-be-a-housewife?"

Kougyoku intervenes before they launch into another nonsensical, impractical, embarrassing, ridiculous childish squabble.

"Pardon the interruption, but I request to know the whereabouts of your king. There are urgent matters we must discuss," she states with regal calm, trying to forget her less than stellar introduction to the strange mentors of Hakuryuu's companions.

"You can find him at the Leo Tower," says Sharkkan, polite and civil and everything he forgot to be for five minutes.

Kougyoku thanks them and goes on her way, convinced by the accident not to postpone this conversation any longer. This uneasy feeling, was it only less than a year ago that she did this? Different nation, different ruler, same troubling concern. International peace is such a fragile thing. She could be married a hundred times and still be helpless to eradicate the threat of conflict.

"I seek an audience with King Sinbad," she tells the guards. One of them escorts her to the door and bows out of sight.

There he is. Sinbad, in all his glory, sits brooding upon a woven lime sea. When he sees her, he smiles fondly, sending her thoughts into a crashing spiral.

 _Please, listen to me. For your country's sake. Don't you see? I already lost everything else. If it's gone, there'll be nothing left! Nothing!_

"The Oracle of the Empire has done you a great injustice by threatening war. Judging by the reputation of our territorial expansion in the past decade, his words are to be expected. However, I assure you that this shall not come to pass. It would be absurd for our countries to fight! Kou and Sindria are bound by peace treaties, so I'm sure...I'm sure that..." That what? All it takes is one spark for the accumulated tension to erupt. Since when did Judal-chan have any regard for documents and treaties? What guarantee can she give that the emperor won't change his mind, especially with his health reportedly worsening by the fortnight? And if Sinbad himself decides to plan a counterattack, then bloodshed will be inevitable. Duty-bound to her homeland, she will have to fight, and kill, and she's not sure she wants that any longer. What to do, what to do?

"Princess. Worry not. It's alright," he says, assuring her that the worst-case scenario won't become a reality.

"I understand Judal's nature," he tells her, and she is once again amazed by his wisdom.

 _Trust him_ , her instincts urge, nervous and excited and trembling. _After all, even Judal-chan left. Why can't someone be kind for once?_ She just feels it, this is someone who brings with him the great and wonderful. Her face heats up. Little tingles stir from toes to fingertips. She met this person before, and never forgot him; much time has passed and she's still an incoherent mess. It wouldn't do for a princess to be reduced to blushing cheeks, so she tries to hide the feverish giddy, giddy flush of red. But he takes her hand gently, and she has to grind her shoes into the floor to keep from running away in embarrassment.

His smile is worth an ocean. Kougyoku wonders how much more she can take of this lighting fluttering in her belly before she faints.

That fruit vendor was right. Something good _will_ come out of her troubles, after all!

* * *

Outside, the sun hides his face. The moon sneaks into its rightful spot, wily and clever, casting a halo of white on cruel ocean, and the treacherous stars begin to sing.

* * *

Later that night, Kougyoku ventures into the mangrove forest. Accompanying her is Ka Koubun, the reluctant torchbearer, dragging his feet and complaining of a bloated stomach. She hikes toward the very edge of the arched roots and sails two paper lanterns down the path of blue ripples. One for Judal. One for herself.

The tears she's been holding back let go at last. He isn't here, and he won't be here unless he charges in upon death's infamous chariot. So the crickets jest in his place for even in the most dignified robes, she is just a lost girl who cries over wishes on paper.

Judal and Kougyoku, near or far, remain divided by a great canyon that has only widened through the years. She'll never breach that, she realizes. There's Kou and Balbadd and Sindria but even the span of those won't fill up the insurmountable gap. She tried, all her life, and it hurts now to see the thin cracks in between rupture with the groaning of a wasted decade. Maybe they were meant to be the black sun and the black moon that never share the same patch of sky. And the stars are their playground and he will always be on the other side.

The lanterns float away upon the whims of the current, and she laments how little time they have left before the waves pull them under. For a moment, a vision flashes of the conjoined silhouette of two butterflies, red and black, flying in tight circles until a ringing noise separates them.

A premonition of things to come? Or merely the outpouring of a sorrowful heart?

It doesn't matter. Her tears have already dried.

Kougyoku rises to her feet and carefully navigates the labyrinth of roots to where her companion waits with an impatient frown.

"Princess, did you finish what you came here for?" he asks, soberly this time.

She shakes her head.

"Let's go, Ka Koubun. Tomorrow is another day."

 **TBC**


End file.
